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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23024398">Tenjōkai To Jigoku No Karami (The Entanglement of Heaven and Hell)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAEYU98/pseuds/MAEYU98'>MAEYU98</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, M/M, Original Fiction, Urban Fantasy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 12:34:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>51,530</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23024398</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/MAEYU98/pseuds/MAEYU98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Sage Republic maintains a terrorizing hold over the country, and a string of kidnappings have left many frightened. Meanwhile, one sage might have the power to bring peace to the nation. That is, if he can find the mythical scrolls that teach him how.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. First Arc: Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The 1st Arc: 天上界 The Celestial Kingdom (Heaven)</p><p> </p><p>With a defiantly raised head, Xiulan sneered at the officers as the cuffs were secured onto her wrists. They shoved her into a holding cell, where she was crowded by people on all sides. Similar to herself, the others wore visibly tattered and dirty robes, though many appeared to be in worse shape than she. Also like her, the majority of them had darker skin, unlike the pale officers standing guard. If it wasn’t their skin that was dark, it was the grime that covered their faces. Despite the circumstances, they all managed to hold an air of dignity about themselves.</p><p>It was about half an hour later when there was a tremendous bang, causing Xiulan and the others to look up. The door had been knocked over by a man in a sterile, perfectly ironed suit and a felted hat. His eyes were hidden by luxuriously dark sunglasses, but his mouth displayed lips that were tightly pursed in rage. Xiulan quickly bowed her head, averting her eyes.</p><p>“That’s the bitch,” the man spat, striding over to the holding cell. “I’ll take her from here.”</p><p>“Sir, are you sure?” one of the officers inquired, trailing behind him. “If she’s that much of a nuisance to you, sir, we can hold her here and take…appropriate measures for punishment.”</p><p>The man held up a hand. “There’s no need. I hate to have this pathetic whore add to the list of your duties. You officers may continue your fine work.” He lowered his hand, his fingers twitching in anger. “I will deal with her promptly.”</p><p>The officers bowed, uttering <em>yes sir, thank you sir</em>, and one of them pulled out the key to the holding cell. He swung the cell door open, but not without igniting a powerful, bright orange flame from the palm of his hand. The people in the cell cowered slightly, backing into the corners. The officer grabbed Xiulan by the arm, roughly yanking her forward and pulling her out of the cell.</p><p>“Not so feisty now that your pimp’s here, huh?” the officer teased bitterly. He slammed the cell shut and shoved her in the direction of the suited man.</p><p>Another officer pulled out the keys for her handcuffs, but the suited man raised his hand again. “No need,” he said, his voice stone cold. “Better to keep her restrained.”</p><p>The officers bowed respectfully. The man grabbed Xiulan and pulled her towards the station’s exit. Outside, the damp air that clung with the smells of the grimy black market overwhelmed their senses. Her head still bowed, Xiulan stumbled around the corner of the station as she was pulled along by the suited man. He yanked her close to him.</p><p>“I hope you’re ready to get what you deserve,” he hissed, gripping her arm.</p><p>“Yes,” she murmured quietly, her head still bowed.</p><p>“How about hotpot? From that one place in third district?” the man asked.</p><p>Xiulan hid her smile. “You know me too well already.”</p><p>“Perhaps,” the man replied, hurrying them along as they ducked behind the station building. “It’s also a selfish craving. My apologies.”</p><p>“None needed,” Xiulan smirked.</p><p>The man paused at the back entrance to the station, and the two glanced around to see that the coast was clear. The man quickly began to mutter something underneath his breath—an incantation. Xiulan watched in amusement as the backdoor to the station began to glow a dark, sinister purple. Then, delicate purplish-black flames began to dance and flicker at the bottom of the door, slowly setting it on fire.</p><p>“That should occupy them for a while,” the man laughed, quickly stepping away. As they walked, he held Xiulan’s handcuffs in glowing red hands until they were soft. He pried them off and let them fall to the ground.</p><p>“Won’t that hurt the other humans being held?” Xiulan asked with concern, rubbing her wrists once the cuffs were off.</p><p>“Of course not.” The man smiled, and they ducked into the busy black market. “I cast a fire that will melt everything but flesh. The cells will melt and they will be set free.”</p><p>Xiulan smiled, shaking her head in amazement. “Now <em>that’s </em>a nifty trick.” She pulled his sunglasses off, examining them. “By the way, where the hell did you get this getup? You don’t look half bad.”</p><p>“Nonsense, I look like a fascist dog,” he replied, quickly removing the other parts of his ensemble. Taking off his hat, he revealed a hefty bun of hair which he pulled loose, sending long locks of black hair falling across his shoulders. “I borrowed it from that kabuki theater in the second district. The one that gives us free drinks.”</p><p>“They give <em>you </em>free drinks, Shinjiro,” she corrected with a laugh. “Because all the actors wanna get in your pants.”</p><p>“Don’t say such lewd things,” Shinjiro replied, turning red. “They’re just friendly.”</p><p>“Right,” Xiulan said, rolling her eyes. “Not a bad save, at the station. Sorry I let myself get arrested like that. What made you decide on the whole ‘pimp and whore’ story?”</p><p>“No need to apologize,” Shinjiro said calmly. He smirked. “I thought you might be amused by it.”</p><p>“Again, you’re really starting to know me too well,” Xiulan laughed, donning the sunglasses on herself.</p><p>In the crowded mass of the black market, Shinjiro also removed the tie, shirt, and suit jacket that the theater had lent him. Although fall was quickly approaching, it was undoubtedly still summer, and his skin was glad to be free of the many layers. In the heat of the market, generated by the many people and the stalls with open flame grills cooking their delicacies, he was especially grateful to have the suit top off. He stopped at a stall to buy some manju for the theater, as thanks for letting him borrow the suit on such short notice.</p><p>Upon entering the theater, the actors immediately recognized them and hurried over. A few of them brought Shinjiro’s clothes which he had swapped for the suit.</p><p>“Xiulan, dearest!” one of the actors cried, cupping her face. “We heard that you were in trouble—arrested! We’re so glad you’re safe.”</p><p>“Those bastard cops,” another actor murmured, hiding his grimace behind a fan. “They’ll arrest anything that moves around here.”</p><p>“Don’t worry,” Xiulan reassured all of them with a smile. “Thanks to you all, Shinjiro was able to get me out, no problem.”</p><p>“Oh, sweetheart, maybe it’s inappropriate to say this, but,” one of them began, giggling behind a robed arm. “Maybe we ought to thank you for getting arrested, because having Shinjiro burst in with such a flustered, angry attitude was so, well …”</p><p>The other actors began to shriek and laugh, playfully hitting the one and telling him to be quiet. Xiulan burst into a hearty laughter, glancing over to look at Shinjiro’s reaction. His ever stoic, reserved composure remained unchanged, but the apples of his cheeks were indeed tinted pink with blush.</p><p>“Don’t worry, we didn’t peek at him while he changed,” one of them chattered on. “Though, we were tempted, haha . . !”</p><p>Shinjiro bowed humbly as some of the actors brought him his clothes and weapons. In exchange, he presented the manju which he had just bought in the market.</p><p>“It’s from Matsumoto’s!” one of them announced, turning to the rest of his troupe. “Listen, you giddy whores, I said he brought us manju from Matsumoto’s!”</p><p>Xiulan laughed as the trope’s excitement quickly shifted from Shinjiro’s previous encounter to the box of manju presented before them. She came over to Shinjiro, who was quietly putting his robes on. She helped him tie his obi, and then carefully sheathed his naginata through the knot in the ribbon. The whimsical clamour of the actors continued, and one of them whined, “they’re <em>obviously </em>for me, because I’m his favorite—ow, hey!”</p><p>Xiulan grinned, patting Shinjiro’s obi to make sure it was snug. “Just friendly, huh?”</p><p>“Oh, quiet,” he muttered with an embarrassed grin.</p><p>Once Shinjiro had fully changed back into his normal clothes, he and Xiulan bowed deeply in thanks. The actors bowed back, though still a bit giddy with laughs. Some of their powdered faces were additionally powdered from the manju.</p><p>“Don’t be so formal, loves, you’re embarrassing us,” the eldest actor, Yui, insisted, shaking his head. “We’re just glad you’re both safe.”</p><p>“Nonsense,” Shinjiro replied, his head still bowed. “We would be in an extremely dangerous position, had it not been for your flexibility.”</p><p>“Flexibility? I can show you <em>real </em>flexibility—”</p><p>“Shut up, bitch!”</p><p>Yui heaved a sigh as the troupe began to bicker and chatter once again. Xiulan’s shoulders shook with giggles. “We’re happy to aid you in any troubles you might run into in the future,” he offered, ignoring the clamor behind him. “But please, dears, stay safe.”</p><p>“No promises,” Xiulan said with a wink. Yui gave her a playful but disapproving frown.</p><p>“By the way, we are putting on a show tonight,” Yui added, as the pair began to put on their shoes. “The theme is <em>neon disco whorehouse</em>. Do stop by, if you have the time.”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The strong smell of chilis and oil greeted Xiulan and Shinjiro as they entered the restaurant. The owner, recognizing them, smiled and guided them over to a table. Shinjiro pulled both his katana out from his obi, leaning them against the wall before doing the same with his naginata.</p><p>“You’re gonna scare away customers, you know,” Xiulan remarked, amused both by his formality and his arsenal.</p><p>“No such thing,” the owner replied, hastily bringing over a steel pot to their table. He set it down and lit the flame underneath it. “Mr. Hada would only use his weapons to protect customers. Nothing else. Everyone knows it.”</p><p>Shinjiro bowed slowly, a warm smile on his face. “You’re too kind, Mr. Yamazaki.”</p><p>Xiulan smiled at their interaction. Still, the two swords and naginata leaning against the wall were inexplicably amusing. Mr. Yamazaki quickly brought them two broths, one a red deeper than blood, and the other an oily light brown. He brought plates of meat and fresh vegetables shortly after, then bowed and left them to eat without interruption.</p><p>On the outdated, humble TV that sat in the corner of the restaurant, Xiulan’s attention was briefly caught by the news. In a segment on security updates, the chief of police Aohoshi Isamu was making a press report on the state of the city. Xiulan, in the middle of placing bundles of beansprouts into the hotpot, paused and grimaced.</p><p>“I hate that guy,” she growled. “I don’t care about his "generous” reputation or whatever. Chief of police is definitely an abuse of power.“</p><p>Shinjiro, who was drinking tea and waiting for the soup to boil, glanced over at the TV. "It’s unfortunate, isn’t it.” He looked away from the TV, back to the hotpot. “Police should be protecting Japan. Not destroying it.”</p><p>“The entire Sage Republic—hell, the entire sage race does nothing but destroy Japan,” Xiulan spat, stirring the hotpot in frustration. She paused. “No offense, Shinjiro.”</p><p>He shook his head. “None taken. You know full well that I agree.”</p><p>She smiled at him. As the hotpot began to bubble, they wasted no time in adding the rest of the ingredients, watching them boil in chili and sesame oil. After the long day, the two of them ate ravenously with almost no conversation. When they finished, their lips tingled numbly from the hot chili oil soup.</p><p>“Y'know, I say it every time but,” Xiulan began, heaving a hearty sigh as she fished out some coins to help pay the bill. “For a Japanese-run place, Mr. Yamazaki sure makes a good Sichuan-style soup. Tastes like home.”</p><p>Shinjiro grinned at her, pushing money into Mr. Yamazaki’s hand. “I’ll be heartbroken the day you don’t say it.”</p><p>As they made their way out, Xiulan paused by the door. Shinjiro halted behind her. Covering the wall were paper flyers. Missing persons flyers. They were all handmade, undoubtedly by shaken up family members who had no other means of producing them. There were faces of people of every age and race—but all were human. There were no sages on the missing persons flyers. There never were.</p><p>“… Is it just me,” Xiulan began, gently unfurling the bent corner of one of the flyers, with a young woman on it. “Or have there been a lot of people going missing lately?”</p><p>Shinjiro gazed solemnly at the wall of flyers. He remained silent, communicating his agreement without words.</p><p>Xiulan sighed, then pushed the door open and headed back out into the street. “Nothing’s right with this Republic, but this time … this time, I think something is very, very wrong.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. First Arc: Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jinichi waited patiently for the last customers to leave his store. Once it was cleared out, he grabbed his cane, gently slid off of his chair, and stood. He headed to the door to flip the <em>open </em>sign to read <em>closed </em>and dimmed the lights. Then, he went to the utility sink behind his desk, placing a watering can underneath the faucet and waiting for it to fill. In the meantime, he slipped a pair of pruning scissors and a few empty glass vials into the pockets of his apron. As soon as the watering can was decently filled, he began to visit each and every plant in the greenhouse fixed to the back end of his store. It was a humbly sized shop, and so a humbly sized greenhouse as well. Despite its size, it housed an impressive array of flora, cultivated from around the world. There grew everything from mosses and fungi to large, full-grown trees.</p><p>While watering the plants that needed a drink, Jinichi also made sure to inspect the plants’ overall health. If he noticed any yellowing or browning leaves, or molds growing out of damp soil, he would pluck them away with steel forceps. Then, he would murmur a simple spell while holding his hand over the plant, and droplets of soft yellow light, like sunshine, would float down from his palm and onto the plant. On top of this, he searched all the plants for promising buds, flowers, or fruit, which he would snip off and place into one of the glass vials he had stored in his apron.</p><p>He worked this way for about half an hour before he heard a sturdy knock in the distance, undoubtedly on the backdoor. “Come in!” he called, still focusing on getting the perfect cut of a bud of baby leaves.</p><p>Jinichi heard the backdoor open, then close again. Then, a shy face popped into the doorway of the greenhouse. It was Min Hyunsoo. As usual, his face had a thin layer of soot, as did his white shirt and his hands. He had surely come straight from another long shift at his father’s smithery. Jinichi greeted him with a wave as he entered.</p><p>“Hey!” he called, smiling. “I’m in here!”</p><p>Hyunsoo sheepishly walked into the greenhouse, carrying a small burlap sack in his two hands, as if holding a valuable gift. He waited for Jinichi to finish, watching him snip something off a plant with great care. As Jinichi dropped the bud into a glass vial, he tucked his scissors and forceps away, and set the watering can down. He coaxed Hyunsoo over with a smile.</p><p>“Hi, Jinichi. How are you?” Hyunsoo greeted, his voice soft and a bit timid as usual.</p><p>Jinichi watched with amusement as he approached. He carried his tall, lanky body with a noticeable degree of awkwardness, hanging his head slightly as if he were too embarrassed to look up. Although the two had been best friends for years now, it still occasionally seemed like Hyunsoo walked on eggshells of politeness around him. But Jinichi knew that was just his personality. Though it sometimes amused him, it never bothered him.</p><p>“Pretty good,” Jinichi responded. “Whatcha got for me?”</p><p>“There was some pretty decent stuff this week,” Hyunsoo admitted, unfurling the burlap sack in his hands. He curled the edges over so that it was easier to see the contents inside.  “Here, look. I found some iron, quartz, and even some garnets.”</p><p>Jinichi peered into the sack and picked up one of the dusty ores with interest. He held it up to the light, seeing a glint of deep red. He smiled. “It really is garnet!” he exclaimed. He turned to Hyunsoo. “This is amazing. What do I owe you?”</p><p>Like always, Hyunsoo politely shook his head. “You don’t owe anything. My father would’ve thrown them out, since he doesn’t know better.”</p><p>Jinichi clucked his tongue. “Well, at least let me pay for dinner next time we go out or something.” He gently dropped the ore back into the burlap sack and smiled at Hyunsoo. “The garnets will be perfect for hangover cures, as soon as people start drinking too much warm sake in the fall. I can’t thank you enough.”</p><p>Hyunsoo scratched his neck. “It’s really no problem, Jinichi.” He looked around the greenhouse, grinning at the lively plants. “How is everyone?”</p><p>“Still thriving from the summery weather, while they can.” Jinichi replied. He looked around as well, beaming at his beloved green pals. “And how’s the smithery?”</p><p>Jinichi began to resume his work, and gestured for Hyunsoo to follow him. “Err, it’s not bad,” Hyunsoo said, scratching his arm. “Though, my dad uh … he’s been, erm, taking more weaponry jobs lately.”</p><p>Jinichi turned to him with a frown. “Really?”</p><p>“Yeah …” Hyunsoo replied, his eyes darting towards the ground. He shrugged. “But I guess business is business. There just isn’t much demand for tools and industrial supplies these days. People want a knife more than they want a shovel.”</p><p>Jinichi heaved a sigh. “Things can’t really be <em>that </em>bad, can they?”</p><p>“I dunno, Jinichi,” Hyunsoo began. “I mean, certainly not for my family, but for others … also, people are more on edge now, um, with the kidnappings and all.”</p><p>Jinichi nodded. “Right. I’ve seen some of the flyers around.” He paused. “What do you reckon that’s all about, anyway? A rise in gang activity?”</p><p>“W-Well, uhh,” Hyunsoo stuttered, finding himself unable to look Jinichi in the eye. “There’s um, there’s a lot of talk … about how, err, lots of people, um … lots of people think it might be the police, or the government, or something.”</p><p>“Ah!” Jinichi scoffed. “The police are here to protect us, not kidnap us. That’s a silly idea.”</p><p>“Heh, maybe,” Hyunsoo said with a light laugh. “Although, I mean …”</p><p>Jinichi turned to glance at him, noting his hesitation. “What is it?”</p><p>Hyunsoo seemed to be turning a bit red. “Well, I don’t mean any offense, Jinichi, but I-I’ve seen a few things in my neighborhood, and um, around the smithery … I think people have a reason for believing the government m-might be up to something. Things have gotten kinda bad, to be honest. I really, really don’t mean to be rude—after all, you’re one of the good guys, Jinichi. Y-You’re the best sage out there, in my book. But not all of them are so good, y’know.”</p><p>Amidst Hyunsoo’s shy ramble, Jinichi had begun to look past his plants, out through the frosted glass of his greenhouse. His eyes gave up focus and he stared, listening to Hyunsoo’s words seriously but with some forlorn glossing over his gaze. He absolutely could not deny the truth in what Hyunsoo was saying. With a twinge of guilt, Jinichi knew in his heart that there were many cases of corruption, violence, and manipulation carried out by sages towards humans. And those were just the well-known cases. He could not imagine the things that Hyunsoo saw and heard on a day to day basis, living in one of the more notoriously crime-ridden areas. His eyes fluttered back towards his plants.</p><p>Noticing his silence, Hyunsoo jumped. “I-I’m so sorry, Jinichi, I didn’t mean any offense, really, I shouldn’t have said any—”</p><p>“It’s okay, Soo,” Jinichi reassured him, gently. “You have every right to say all of that. No offense taken.”</p><p>Hyunsoo wrung his hands anxiously. “I’m sorry. I know … I know you respect the Sage Republic quite a bit.”</p><p>Jinichi turned to look at him. He caught Hyunsoo glancing at the braces on his legs, and his cane, before quickly glancing away. “I do,” he admitted, then sighed. “But lately, it seems like I should pay more attention to the awful things that some sages do.”</p><p>“I uh, I think you’re doing a lot already,” Hyunsoo offered, smiling shyly. “You’ve got a great shop in a Neutral District, a-and you don’t refuse service to humans. Businesses like yours are getting harder and harder to find, you know.”</p><p>Jinichi returned his smile. “Is that so? Well, that’s just a case of sages being stupid and missing out on a perfectly fine business opportunity,” Jinichi laughed. The mood had lightened once more. “A paying human customer is just as good as a paying sage customer. Anyone who disagrees is just dumb.”</p><p>Hyunsoo was able to laugh a bit as well. “You’ve got a point!”</p><p>They chattered on as Jinichi finished making the rounds through his greenhouse, tending to each plant. Rather intimidated by living things in general, Hyunsoo kept his distance from the plants.<em> I might ruin them if I get too close</em>, he often said, to Jinichi’s amusement. But Jinichi occasionally tried to grab his interest by showing him a nice fruit or flower that had grown, right before snipping it off and harvesting it. After a little while, Jinichi had gathered a decent amount of ingredients and had tended to all of his plants. Back at the entrance to the greenhouse, he waved a hand slowly in the air, murmuring another incantation. A gentle wave of light washed over all the plants, ruffling their leaves as if it were a soft breeze. Hyunsoo smiled, watching in awe. His reaction was always this way, even though he had seen Jinichi do it a thousand times.</p><p>“Actually, Soo, are you busy with anything tonight?” Jinichi asked as he locked up the greenhouse. “I think it might not be a bad idea to get dinner right now, if you’re up to it. Like I said, it’s on me.”</p><p>“N-Not looking like this!” Hyunsoo exclaimed, gesturing at his soot-stained face and clothes.</p><p>Jinichi laughed. “You look great!” he said, but Hyunsoo frowned at him with embarrassment. “Fine, fine. Well, you know you can use the sink to wash your face. As for your clothes …”</p><p>Hyunsoo eyed him. “What are you about to suggest, Jinichi?”</p><p>“Well, let’s say we visit the mall in sixth district before we eat,” Jinichi offered, raising his brows. “I <em>have </em>been wanting a new jumper, after all.”</p><p>Offering a wary smile, Hyunsoo began, “Sounds fun and all, but you know I can’t really afford …”</p><p>He trailed off as Jinichi shook the burlap sack he’d brought, causing the ores inside to noisily clatter against each other. “You brought some really great ingredients this week, Soo. Don’t think I’m gonna let you off so easy.”</p><p>Hyunsoo’s mouth parted. “Jinichi, I—”</p><p>“No arguing!” Jinichi announced. “Wash up and get ready for a night out! Huh, I wonder if there are any good movies playing at the theater …”</p><p>“J-Jinichi! That’s too much!”</p><p>“Hey, I said no arguing! Get to the sink and wash up, you soot-covered punk …”</p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>As Xiulan turned the corner, the familiar, grayish-white building came into view. From the dark windows, it appeared as though there were no lights on. But she knew better. She hurried along towards the building, and soon recognized a couple other people who were making their way to the same building. When their eyes met, they exchanged a friendly nod, but no words. Silence was key. </p><p>The building they walked towards was a dojo. Around the front, there was a magnificent entryway with solid pine accents and stone statues at the end of a zen garden pathway. But where Xiulan and the others was a back entrance, hidden in a dirty alley right next to a pair of dumpsters for the restaurants facing the other side of the block. Xiulan was careful not to step in any puddles of grease or sauce as she quietly pulled the door open, gesturing for the others to file in before ducking in herself. </p><p>Right inside the door was a janitor’s closet, filled with cleaning supplies for the dojo. Xiulan and the others pulled off their shoes, and placed them in boxes that were labeled with bulk-quantity sanitizer, floor cleaner, toilet paper, and the like. Once they put their shoes away, they carefully slid the boxes back into the janitor’s closet where they blended in with the other items. They were not to leave a trace. </p><p>When Xiulan finally entered the main dojo, she was met with a familiar view. The lights of the dojo were on their lowest setting, casting a brassy yellow glow over the wooden interior. Some other pupils were already there, sitting on their knees with their backs straight, heads forward. The dojo’s windows were covered by blackout curtains, enhancing the importance of silence and secrecy. A dozen or so mannequins were spaced out along the outer edges of the dojo. And of course, kneeled before the dojo’s kamiza sat Ito Miyoko, the instructor. </p><p>Xiulan quietly made her way onto the floor, bowing before stepping foot on the polished wood. She kneeled in her spot which was designated  diagonally behind Miyoko, and closed her eyes to get in focus. </p><p>The dojo’s clock gave a loud thunk, signaling that it was ten o’clock. Xiulan opened her eyes. </p><p>Miyoko took a moment to scan her eyes over the room, to see if anyone was present. Her mouth twitched in the smallest frown as she noticed an empty spot near the middle of the group. Nonetheless, she began the class by bowing her head deeply, sliding her hands onto the floor before her. Xiulan, and the others, followed suit. </p><p>“Good evening, and welcome,” Miyoko greeted, her voice clear but barely above a murmur. </p><p>“Good evening, teacher,” the class responded in unison, all in hushed voices. </p><p>“Does anyone know where Mrs. Takeda is?” Miyoko asked, her head still bowed. </p><p>“Her son was arrested last week. She’s working extra shifts to help post his bail.” The reply came with a serious, slightly somber voice. </p><p>Miyoko kept her head down. “Let us pray for a good training session tonight,” she went on. “Let us also pray for good fortune to come to Mrs. Takeda, and her son.” </p><p>Moments passed in silence as everyone prayed silently in their heads. Xiulan noted the anger in Miyoko’s voice. </p><p>“Let’s begin.” Miyoko was the first to lift her head, sitting up straight once more before starting to stand. </p><p>“With your blessing, teacher,” the class once again responded in unison. Only after Miyoko had stood did they begin to straighten up from their bows and eventually stand. They all headed towards the back of the room, where a bin full of tall bo staffs sat. Xiulan waited patiently to grab her staff, but was surprised when she was handed one instead. She smiled gratefully at her classmate before making her way back to the center of the room, towards one of the mannequins. </p><p>The self-defense class was taught in complete secrecy, only known through word of mouth and personal invitation. Miyoko ran normal martial arts classes during the daytime in her dojo, but those were restricted to sages only. While Miyoko knew most of her sage pupils to be decent individuals, she still loathed the very fact that she had to teach fighting techniques to sages who might very well turn and use them on humans. But the classes were her only source of income, and they doubled as an excellent way to keep her dojo looking official and inconspicuous on paper. Her daytime classes made it appear as though she were a top-tier, Republic-supporting sage. In an ironic, foul sense, they were what made her secret self-defense class possible. </p><p>She did her best to make sure the self-defense class was more beneficial than any of her normal daytime classes. In addition to teaching her best defense skills to her human pupils, she also ensured that it was a safe place to discuss news and build trustworthy relations. Often, her pupils would bring their children or even babies to the dojo if things were unsafe at home. She distributed a pamphlet at the end of most classes which was produced by a group of humans in the neighboring district and contained recent news, safety tips, and other helpful information to get troubled humans through their daily lives. Lastly, unbeknownst to her sage pupils, many of the boxes in the supply room labeled with mundane things such as cleaning wipes, extra mats, and floor polish were actually stocked with foods such as rice, miso paste, ramen packets, and pickled plums. They were free to take for any of her human pupils, whenever they needed. Even with these amenities, she was tortured by the feeling that she wasn’t doing nearly enough. </p><p>As Xiulan began her stretching exercises, she watched Miyoko out of the corner of her eye. It was easy to tell from her body language that she was still upset about the news of Mrs. Takeda and her son. Xiulan pursed her lips, frowning. She knew she could do nothing to help ease her teacher’s stress. She continued to stretch. </p><p>Training began, and Miyoko made her rounds to each group of pupils. There were those who had newly joined and were still beginners, to whom she taught the basics of self-defense along with one or two indispensable attacks. Then there were the intermediate students, who she taught a multitude of defenses and attacks. Once they knew the basics, she figured, they were able to learn most things from there. She wasted no time with discipline or seniority or anything of the traditional sort. She taught them quickly and intensely, hoping to give them as many tactics as possible. Hardly a week went by without one of her intermediate pupils sharing that they had used one of the defenses in a confrontation with police, being able to escape the situation. </p><p>Finally, there were the expert pupils. While there were only a few, they were indeed masters at self-defense as well as multiple forms of attack or other martial arts. Miyoko often sparred one-on-one with her expert pupils, sometimes even while using her own super-strength magic. It was the best way to keep them as sharp as possible without actually endangering them. </p><p>Xiulan was one of these expert pupils. She spent most of the class practicing techniques on her own, with the mannequins, or with other expert pupils. It was only near the latter half of the class, when Miyoko was done giving new instruction to the beginner and intermediate pupils, that she actually got to spar with her. Lately, she had begun to stay after all the other pupils had left, just to get more sparring practice against Miyoko.</p><p>Xiulan had just knocked her sparring partner to his feet when there was a knock at the wooden doors. </p><p>“Hello? Anybody in there?” came a muffled, male voice. “It’s Republic Police.” </p><p>Without a word, everyone grabbed their bo staffs and ran to the back of the dojo, where the bathrooms were. There was no time to be frozen in shock. They filed into the bathrooms, entering the stalls and crouching under sinks to make room for everyone. Once packed in, the last person killed the lights and locked the door. Xiulan was one of the last today, and pressed her body against the door once she had locked it. She put her ear to the door, straining to hear what was happening outside. </p><p>“Coming right away,” Miyoko replied, taking a breath to compose herself. Then, she strode over to the main doors, unlocking them and opening them. She bowed upon seeing the two officers, standing cockily and peering around at her dojo. “Good evening, gentlemen.” </p><p>They gave slight bows in return. “Evenin’,” one of them replied. “We were just patrollin’ the neighborhood and heard an awful lot of noise comin’ from your dojo. It’s awful late, y’know.” </p><p>“Besides,” the other officer went on, tapping his foot against the wooden pole that listed the dojo’s hours. “This says you close up at eight. It’s nearly midnight. Just seems fishy.” </p><p>Miyoko bowed again, deeply. She reached into her pocket, removing her wallet. She pulled out a sturdy, colorful card, presenting it to the officers. “My apologies for raising suspicion. I’m the owner of this dojo. All classes end at 8 o’clock, but I often use the space to practice on my own, after official hours.” </p><p>One of the officers took her card. It was an official Sage Republic ID card, issued to all sages in the country. Ito Miyoko. Sex, female. Hair color, black. Eye color, brown. Date of Birth. Species, Sage of Strength. The officers looked it over, and scanned the barcode on the backside. The scanner pinged with a soft green light. They handed the card back. </p><p>“Sage of strength, eh?” one of the officers asked, watching her put the card back in her wallet. His attitude seemed to have eased up. “Not too common ‘round here.” </p><p>Miyoko forced a smile. “My family’s from up north.” </p><p>“Strength … well, I’ll bet that causes a bit of a ruckus if you’re training, don’t it?” the other officer remarked with a bit of a laugh. “Well, mind if we take a quick look around anyway?” </p><p>“Please do,” Miyoko replied quickly, stepping aside to let the officers into the dojo. </p><p>Miyoko followed behind the officers at a respectful distance. She glanced at their shoes in distaste as they squelched along the dojo’s floor, no doubt ruining the polish. </p><p>Xiulan heard footsteps as the officers neared the bathrooms. Then, the slitted vent at the bottom door lit up with the beam from a flashlight, sending bars of light into the pitch black bathroom. But it only lasted for a moment. Xiulan held in a sigh of relief as the light vanished, and the sound of footsteps grew distant. </p><p>“Well, sorry to have bothered ya, ma’am,” one of the officers apologized as they once again reached the main entrance of the dojo. He tipped his hat. “Go on and keep practicing.” </p><p>“But consider gettin’ to bed soon,” the other officer remarked as they made their exit. “A girl’s gotta get her beauty sleep, y’know.” </p><p>Again, Miyoko forced a smile. This time she also tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Of course, officers. Thank you for the advice.” </p><p>They left, and Miyoko closed the doors behind them. She stood by the entrance for a while, waiting to make sure the officers did not return. She remained there for several minutes before deciding that the coast was clear. </p><p>“It’s safe, you can all come out now.”</p><p>Xiulan heard the gentle voice and unlocked the door. Miyoko greeted her with a nod, which she returned. She held the door open for everyone, making sure the bathroom was totally cleared out before letting go of the handle. </p><p>Everyone was gathered near the center of the dojo. “Given tonight’s circumstances,” Miyoko began, offering all her pupils a bow. “I think we should end class here tonight. It’s also quite late—we would have ended class soon, anyway.” </p><p>The class began to put their bo staffs away, and once again assumed their kneeling positions on the floor. Miyoko bowed first, followed by everyone else. </p><p>“Thank you everyone for yet another successful class. Remember, try not to leave all at once.” She paused for a moment. “Also, if anyone finds out any news about Mrs. Takeda, or knows of ways we can help her, please bring it to our attention at the next class. With that, let’s be finished.”</p><p>“Thank you, teacher,” the class called out, bowing deeply. </p><p>As the others began to slowly file out, Xiulan hovered behind. Instead of putting on her shoes and leaving, she walked over to Miyoko. She jostled her bag, which had poles and tassels hanging out from one end that could not fit in the bag’s normal length. </p><p>“Hey you,” she greeted, doing something like a curtsy around Miyoko’s side. “I brought some new toys. How about a match or two?” </p><p>Miyoko watched as Xiulan dangled her gym bag somewhat teasingly. “Are you asking me to practice with you, or are you flirting?” </p><p>Xiulan grinned. “I’ll be over here,” she said simply, gesturing at the main room of the dojo. </p><p>Miyoko nodded, then turned back to overseeing everyone’s departures. Everyone was sent out in groups of three or four, waiting several minutes after they left before sending the next group out. Given the sheer amount of people, it was always a process that took up a bit of time. But it was no doubt the safest way for them to head out. </p><p>When everyone had finally departed, Miyoko locked the back door and made her way back into the main dojo. She started in shock when she saw Xiulan holding two large sheathed weapons, one in each hand. </p><p>“Lai Xiulan,” she began, giving her an apprehensive look as she drew closer. “What are those.” </p><p>“You like ‘em?” Xiulan asked, beaming. “They’re a pair of qiang—Chinese spears. I found ‘em in a dusty old secondhand shop in third district.”</p><p>“You carried these with you all the way across town?!” Miyoko gasped, clutching her forehead. “What if you’d have gotten caught?” </p><p>“Well, I didn’t,” Xiulan smirked, tossing one of the qiang to Miyoko. “Besides. Better to get caught with them than without them, right?”</p><p>Miyoko sighed stressedly, and Xiulan winked. Casting one last tried look, Miyoko unsheathed the qiang from its leather case. The total length of the blade plus the pole was nearly ten feet. “Alright, whatever. Let’s see what you’ve got.” </p><p>With a smile, Xiulan raised her qiang. “If you go easy on me,” she warned, “I’ll kill ya.” </p><p>The two began their battle with humble bows to each other, standing in the center of the dojo. Then, they lifted their qiang and unleashed their attacks without hesitation. Without Miyoko using any of her magic, the two held an equally-matched fight. In fact, Xiulan had an upper hand in swiftness and agility—something Miyoko noted each time they sparred. Tonight’s match was no different. However, after both of them had worked up a decent sweat, Miyoko decided to deflect one of Xiulan’s blows using some of her strength magic. Xiulan gasped as her entire body was knocked back, her qiang nearly flying out of her hands. </p><p>“Hey—not fair!” she cried, trying to regain her balance as quickly as possible. </p><p>But Miyoko simply launched another attack, jabbing at her fiercely. “How many times do I have to remind you?” she replied, grinning as Xiulan blocked her attack anyway. “A sage is never going to play fair with you.” </p><p>“You’re right,” Xiulan grunted, starting to counter with a flash of revenge-fueled attacks. “Dirty bastards, the lot of you!” </p><p>Miyoko realized in shock that her guard was down, and Xiulan was able to send her spinning with a flurry of quick jabs and swings, all the while coming closer. Finally, in the epic cumulation of her efforts, she kicked Miyoko’s knees in from behind. Her back hit the floor with a loud thud. </p><p>“Hah!” Xiulan cried in triumph, standing her qiang up straight and putting her foot on Miyoko’s chest. “I’ve tamed the beast.” </p><p>Miyoko heaved a sigh. She pushed the foot off her chest and began to get up. She took Xiulan’s outstretched hand, using it to pull herself onto her feet. She wiped sweat off her brow with the back of her hand. “You have indeed,” she agreed. She bowed. “Great fight. As always.” </p><p>Xiulan took a moment to smirk, but then bowed in return. “Happy to offer my ass-kicking services, anytime.” </p><p>Miyoko laughed with a shake of her head. “Thanks, I’ll be sure to reach out when I need it.” She and Xiulan gathered up the leather sleeves and began to slip them back on the qiang. Miyoko looked over them with concern. “You know, you can store these in the dojo if you want. So you don’t have to lug them back across town.” </p><p>“Are you kidding?” Xiulan scoffed. “No way, I’m taking these bad boys with me. Gonna practice with them again first thing tomorrow morning. You’re not my only sparring parter, y’know. I get around.” </p><p>At her suggestive tone of voice, Miyoko found herself screwing up her face and turning slightly pink. Xiulan let out a hearty laugh. After packing up their things, they closed down the dojo and locked it up together. Xiulan made sure to stash a couple of ramen packets into her bag. </p><p>“You know, I meant to get groceries tonight, but I think it’s way too late now …” Miyoko started to say as the two of them walked through the garden. “I won’t have any ingredients to make lunch tomorrow.  But there’s a really good dumpling house over by the seafood market that I haven’t been to in a while. If you’re—if you’re not busy, would you maybe wanna, um, go . . ?” </p><p>Xiulan stopped in her tracks, and looked at Miyoko. She burst into laughter upon seeing Miyoko’s flustered, deer-in-headlights eyes. “You are <em>hilarious</em>, Miyoko. That was the most elaborate, long-winded way to ask me out on a date, ever.” </p><p>“A, a date? No, I just—” Miyoko began to stammer, attempting to defend herself. But she was silenced by Xiulan’s kind smile, and hand on her shoulder. </p><p>“Of course I’ll go,” she assured. “You’re lucky that you’re super cute when you act like a total pussy.” </p><p>The pink of Miyoko’s face turned beet red. “Oh, you—you know what? Uninvited!” </p><p>Xiulan shoved her playfully. “Aw, don’t be like that! I was just teasing!” </p><p>Miyoko, finally able to laugh, shoved her back—but had done so while forgetting to restrict her strength abilities. “Xiulan! Shit, I’m sorry!” she cried, running after her as she was knocked into the street, teetering on her feet and reeling from the push. But Xiulan, as usual, had simply erupted in laughter.</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. First Arc: Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The entire office was buzzing with tension, as well as the strain of trying to keep their stress to a minimum. Despite everyone’s efforts, the presence of a certain franticness could be felt as soon as one stepped into the space. Detectives and lieutenants hurried about with their heads slightly bowed, their highly polished shoes clacking across the linoleum floor. They sat stiffly at their desks, typing away at their computers with urgency. Hardly anyone could bear to make eye contact with one another. The only sounds that could be heard were the hasty shuffling of papers, hurried footsteps, and the grand clock overhead ticking like a bomb. </p><p>The elevator opened with a soft hiss. Out stepped the Chief of Police, Aohoshi Isamu. He wore his suit jacket over his shoulders, adjusting his lapel with leather gloved hands. His badge shone brightly on his lapel. </p><p>Everyone in the office stood and faced him, bowing deeply and murmuring good morning greetings.</p><p>“Quickly,” Isamu said, without bowing back. “What’s the urgent news I’ve been called in for?”</p><p>A lieutenant shot up from his desk and hurried over with a manila folder. He bowed as he presented it forward. “Here’s everything we’ve gathered, sir.”</p><p>Isamu quickly glanced inside the folder, seeing a short stack of only a few papers inside. He snapped it shut once more. “Thanks,” he said to the lieutenant, who scurried off back to his desk. He began to walk forward, swiftly and powerfully making his way through the floor. “I want all district chiefs up in the conference room, now. The rest of you, carry on.” </p><p>Once again, the entire office bowed. A handful of individuals, the district chiefs, followed Isamu up the stairs to the conference room. Another suited man, who had been waiting for Isamu’s arrival, joined them. </p><p>“Have a seat,” Isamu ordered, his back facing the conference table as he examined the contents of the folder. The chiefs silently seated themselves. The suited man took a seat next to the front of the table, where Isamu would eventually sit. They all waited patiently for him to make the first move. </p><p>Several minutes passed. Isamu began to tap his foot, looking at the files intently. Finally, he turned around to face the rest of the room. He calmly pulled out his chair, took a seat, and dropped the folder onto the table. </p><p>A police station in fourth district had caught fire and nearly burned to the ground. It was a well-accepted assumption that the fire had been a case of arson, not accident. The most incriminating piece of evidence: the dark purple flames that had engulfed the station. </p><p>“Are we certain that it was Akuma fire?” Isamu asked, looking critically at all the seated chiefs. “It wasn’t just some punk throwing potassium chloride into normal fire?” </p><p>“Quite certain,” the chief from the fourth district replied solemnly. “It was practically impossible to extinguish, unlike normal fire. In fact, the officers told me they had to enlist a shinto exorcist for help putting it out. They eventually got the job done with copious amounts of water and, err … blessed salt.” </p><p>Isamu eyed the chief. “So, we really think it’s … <em>him</em>.” </p><p>The chief nodded slowly. “We do believe so, yes sir.” </p><p>“He had some followers, you know,” Isamu countered, drumming his fingers on the table. “Some fans, if you will. I’ve no doubt that some of them would have attempted to learn Akuma magic as well. How can we be certain it isn’t just a crazed supporter of his?” </p><p>The room was silent for a few moments, and the fourth district chief held his mouth shut. He had no certain answer. </p><p>“… Well, we’ve been looking into it, sir,” one of the other district chiefs piped up, cautiously. “The officers from the fourth district station in question reported that the fire did not burn anyone.” </p><p>“Pardon?” Isamu retorted. “Did the fire not completely engulf the whole station?” </p><p>“Yes, sir, it did,” the chief went on. “However, it seems that the fire was cast with a certain, erm, restraint. It burned the building’s structure—steel beams, insulation, wood, linoleum, everything. However, it did not harm any sages nor humans. In fact, the fire burnt down the holding cells and … all the humans in holding were able to escape.” </p><p>Isamu stared fiercely at the chief. Then, the rest. “So it was a powerful spell.” </p><p>“Quite,” the same chief responded, bowing her head. “A very high-level Akuma spell. We seriously doubt the capability of any said “followers” to produce such potent magic.” </p><p>“I see.” Isamu looked down at the folder. Minutes passed in stony silence. “You’re all dismissed. No further commands. Just continue gathering information.” </p><p>The chiefs all stood, bowing deeply in unity. They raised their hands to their brows in salute. “Sir.” They quickly filed out of the conference room, back out to the floor. </p><p>Isamu’s eyes had closed. Still sitting in the chair next to him was the suited man, Saiga Ryuuji. They remained in silence for a while. </p><p>“Could it really be him?” Isamu finally asked, his voice calm and much less commanding now that it was just he and Ryuuji. </p><p>Ryuuji frowned and placed a sympathetic hand on his friend’s shoulder. “The Akuma Shogun was exiled from the country years ago. We’ve done well to see that he hasn’t reentered. Besides, if it was him, why would he suddenly come back now, of all times?” </p><p>Isamu opened his eyes slowly. “But the fire, Ryuuji. How else do you explain something like this?” </p><p>Ryuuji’s frown deepened. He had no answer. He patted Isamu’s shoulder reassuringly, then retracted his hand. “If it is him, then we’re going to have every cop in Nagoya hunting him down. He won’t stand a chance.” </p><p>“I’m afraid we’ll underestimate him,” Isamu admitted. </p><p>Ryuuji looked at his friend with patience. He needn’t even use his empath abilities to sense how complicated Isamu’s emotions were at the moment. It was all too easy to feel his worry as it was. “Your respect for him is still evident.” </p><p>“Only a fool would feel otherwise,” Isamu retorted. His fingers twitched, threatening to curl into a fist. “Despite what he’s done … what he’s learned … it would take a real idiot to say he isn’t one of the most powerful sages Japan has ever seen.” </p><p>Ryuuji nodded in understanding. “You hold an honorable opinion. You know him best, after all.” </p><p>With this remark, Isamu’s eyes darted over to him. But he stood, closed his eyes and gave a small bow. “I’ll leave you to your thoughts for now, Isamu. But don’t hesitate to reach out. In situations as stressful as these, it’s vital to have someone to talk to.” </p><p>Slowly, Isamu nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Thank you, Ryuuji. I’ll be sure to let you know.” </p><p>With that, Ryuuji left as well, leaving Isamu all alone in the conference room. Alone with the thin manila folder on the table before him. He pulled it back towards him, flipping it open and snatching up the first page. He gazed at the photos of the burnt down station. Maybe it really was him, running about in the foulest slum districts and doing god knows what. They still had so little information. </p><p>“Is that you, Akuma Shogun?” Isamu wondered aloud. He drummed his fingers on the table. </p>
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<a name="section0004"><h2>4. First Arc: Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>With a comical whoosh of the sound of splitting air, Xiulan slashed her one of her new qiang around her. It was a somewhat chillier morning, a sign of the changing season. From the trees in the courtyard, sparrows twittered enthusiastically. They fluttered back and forth between their trees and Shinjiro, who sat on the engawa, tossing bread crumbs onto the grass. He had a newspaper on his lap, flipping through it slowly. It was an underground newspaper published and sold by humans, not the national paper published by the Sage Republic. He sipped his mug of hot tea as Xiulan continued practicing with her qiang, occasionally grunting or emitting a battle cry. <b><br/></b></p><p>“You know, these birds are gonna lose the ability to find food for themselves, if you keep feeding them like this,” Xiulan remarked, taking a break to catch her breath. “And then their babies will learn the same habit. And then their babies, too.” </p><p>“They will not need to find food for themselves.” Shinjiro calmly tossed out another pinch of crumbs, watching the sparrows hop around. “I shall take care of them all, and all their future generations.”</p><p>Xiulan scoffed. “Lofty goal.” She smirked, and came over to him. She joined him, sitting on the engawa, and watched the sparrows. “What’s good in the news?” </p><p>“Good?” Shinjiro repeated. “Nothing.” </p><p>“You know what I meant,” Xiulan replied, rolling her eyes. “What’s going on around town?” </p><p>“Have a look,” he offered, passing her the newspaper. “I’m going to refill my tea. Would you like some?” </p><p>“Sure.” Xiulan nodded at him, smiling. As he disappeared back into the house, she began browsing the paper. Market raids, overcrowded jails, unwarranted search and seizures, the like. Just to name a few. Xiulan clicked her tongue in distaste. Shinjiro was right—there was absolutely nothing good in the paper. Soon, Shinjiro was back at her side, kneeling down gently and placing a tray with two tea mugs between them. She started to reach for one of them when a small headline in the paper caught her eye. “Hey, Shin. Look at this.” </p><p>She showed the paper to him, indicating where she wanted him to look with her finger. <em>Return of the Akuma Shogun? Shogun’s followers in a frenzy after police station burns down,</em> read the headline.  Shinjiro immediately leaned in closer, his gaze quickly turning fierce as he sped through the article. Xiulan, too, read the article, but was admittedly more focused on the sudden sharpness of his eyes. </p><p>“<em>Akuma Shogun</em> … didn’t you say that’s what people used to call you?” Xiulan asked, trying to read his face. “Look, you’ve got supporters!” </p><p>“Perhaps I’ve made a grave mistake,” Shinjiro breathed, withdrawing from the paper. His eyes, still piercingly sharp, were fixed on the trees near the edge of their yard. </p><p>“A mistake? Why? They’re your followers, why would mobilizing them be a bad thing?” Xiulan asked, puzzled. “Which, by the way, you never mentioned having <em>followers</em>. Isn’t that like … a pretty big deal?” </p><p>Shinjiro closed his eyes, but his brows remained deeply furrowed in thought. “I forget that you were still in China during that time. I apologize, Xiulan.” He held his tea in gentle hands, but sat unmoving like a stone statue. “Please forget I said anything.” </p><p>Xiulan huffed at him in frustration, as she had been hoping for an explanation. But, knowing she wouldn’t get one, she returned her focus to the newspaper. “Sure, sure. Mister dark and mysterious,” she grumbled. She took a drink from her tea mug. “We’ve been living together and operating as partners in crime for months now, and I still don’t know a damn thing about you.” </p><p>“Let us drop this matter. The past isn’t of concern now.” Shinjiro eventually opened his eyes, looking sullenly at the ground. He paused for a moment. “Do you regard our activities as crime?” </p><p>“Breaking in, stealing, deceiving police, assisting gangs, vandalization,” Xiulan rambled on. She laughed. “How could I <em>not</em> regard it as crime?”</p><p>Shinjiro sipped gingerly at his tea. “I consider it justice.” </p><p>A now familiar sound, Xiulan’s hearty laughter chimed through the yard. Admittedly, Shinjiro found himself grinning as well. After they finished their tea, they decided to withdraw to the house before the day grew too hot. </p><p>Their living quarters were the physical embodiment of their different lifestyles, but also a testament to their ability to coexist in perfect harmony. It was a fairly shabby space, having been an abandoned house in the heart of one of the worst slums in the capitol. But it was still no dump, certainly not after Shinjiro had put in countless hours to clean it up a bit. Although he could do little to fix the structure of the place, he had worked hard to remove cobwebs, clear out dust, patch up holes in the walls and paper doors, and get the electricity back in working order. He had managed to rescue the lighting and the refrigerator, but the oven and stove had been lost to rust and other damages. He also had to use his fire spells to heat water for bathing. </p><p>Still, they managed to make things exceedingly comfortable for themselves. Xiulan’s room was a claustrophobic array of weapons, comics, jewelry, and clothes. Her futon was always out on the tatami, never made and never put away. Instead, she used her futon closet to store even more possessions. They eventually made their way out to the other living spaces as well, such as the battle axe that was propped up in the main tatami room or the nunchucks that always seemed to be lying around the kitchen. Stacks of comics and magazines were often on the table, or around the TV set. On the other hand, Shinjiro’s room was almost barren in comparison. The tatami floor of his room was always visible—spotless, in fact. He folded his futon every morning and stored it away in its respective closet. On his windowsill sat a vase of dried flowers, and a small wooden cat figure. He had a slim bookshelf in the corner, which contained his forbidden texts on Akuma magic. He stored the rest of his belongings in his closet: a couple spare sets of robes, a collection of base layer garments, some geta, and calligraphy supplies. </p><p>As they headed inside, Xiulan sprawled out on the tatami in front of the TV, turning it on and flipping through channels. Shinjiro went into the kitchen to peer through the fridge. He pulled out an array of vegetables, rice wine for cooking, and other add-ins. He pulled flour out from the cabinet. Before cooking, he secured his hair into a tight bun and removed his robe so the sleeves wouldn’t get in the way. </p><p>Xiulan had settled on a romance drama which she had never seen any prior episodes of. About thirty minutes after she started watching, she noticed Shinjiro enter the room from the corner of her eye. She lowered the volume of the TV and scrambled over to the table on her hands and knees. She smiled amusingly at the sight of tall, muscular, covered in wabori Shinjiro delivering a home cooked meal to her on a tray, with traces of flour on his pants. </p><p>“Thanks, hon,” she mused, picking up her chopsticks. </p><p>Shinjiro nodded. “I hope it’s to your liking.” He put his chopsticks between his thumbs and his clasped hands, then bowed his head for a quick prayer. He picked up his bowl, but he did not start to eat. “Actually, while I was cooking, I was thinking. Perhaps it is time to do something about these kidnappings. Perhaps we can form some kind of team.”</p><p>With a dumpling halfway through her mouth, Xiulan stared. “A team? You mean like, gathering up some of your supporters?” </p><p>Shinjiro glanced at her, then cast his eyes down at his bowl. “I was thinking more along the lines of the families and friends of those who have been kidnapped.” </p><p>Xiulan frowned slightly, upset about still being in the dark about his team of followers. But she ignored it. “We’d be rounding up a lot of people, then.” </p><p>“You’re right.” Finally, Shinjiro pulled a dumpling out of the broth and put it in his mouth. “We can start local.” </p><p>Pointing her chopsticks at him, Xiulan nodded while chewing. “Not bad, not bad,” she remarked, her mouth full. “But what’s our platform? Are we taking on the police, or what?” </p><p>Shinjiro looked at her in disapproval. “That is far too big a goal. We do not want to intimidate any of the families.” He watched Xiulan scoff into her bowl, scooping some laver into her mouth. “We should start with the simple task of creating a network.” </p><p>“Yeah, sure, I guess,” Xiulan conceded. “But what good is it to have a network of wusses who don’t wanna create some action?” </p><p>Shinjiro smirked at her. “That fierce attitude of yours never fails to amuse me.” His tone became somewhat insightful as he added, “Besides, you should know that fighting is not the only viable way to seek demands.” </p><p>“Wise words coming from you, <em>Akuma Shogun</em>,” Xiulan sneered teasingly. She downed some more soup before her eyes suddenly lit up with an idea. “Hey! I bet I know someone who’d love to be involved with this.” </p><p>Shinjiro raised a brow. “The teacher from your dojo?” Xiulan nodded enthusiastically. Shinjiro smiled. “I’d love to meet her.” </p><p>“Great,” Xiulan said, slurping down the last of her soup. Shinjiro had only eaten one dumpling in the time that she finished. “I’ll bring her around after our next date.” </p><p>“… Oh?” Shinjiro cocked his head. </p><p>“That’s right,” Xiulan announced. “While you’ve been lying around, meditating and being woeful about your past, I’ve been going on hot dates with my teacher. A-ha.” </p><p>“How wonderful,” Shinjiro commented with a smile. “Why did you only just now tell me?” </p><p>“I didn’t think you’d be interested,” Xiulan admitted, putting her empty bowl and chopsticks back on the tray Shinjiro had brought in. She gave him a curious glance. “Are you? Oh Shin, do you want to hear all the juicy news about my dating life?” </p><p>Holding his bowl to his lips, Shinjiro shrugged. “Only if you’d like to tell me,” he replied suggestively. </p><p>“Okay, okay,” Xiulan giggled, crossing her legs and scooting herself round to fully face Shinjiro. “So get this, it all started when she asked me out in the most ridiculous way I think I’ve ever experienced …” </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The dinner date had been a successful combination of delicious tempura and udon. Fall was beginning, and the chilly night perfectly suited the hearty meal. As they exited the restaurant, Xiulan looked up towards the sky and spun on her heel. “Sooo, Miyoko,” she began, drawing out her words. “Remember that guy I said I lived with?”</p><p>“Yes,” Miyoko replied, quickly becoming wary. </p><p>“Well, I think you should meet him.” </p><p>Miyoko’s brow furrowed. “Meet him? Why?” </p><p>As they walked, Xiulan did her best to explain the situation in a fairly hushed voice. She explained how her roommate, Shinjiro, was actually similar to her—a very avid supporter of human equality with sages.  Recently, he had decided that he wanted to start doing something about the increase in kidnappings. And, well, Xiulan felt that he and Miyoko might foster a good partnership. </p><p>“I’m in,” Miyoko responded, nearly as soon as Xiulan had finished speaking. </p><p>“What, really?” Xiulan blinked in surprise. “You don’t wanna like, think it over or anything?” </p><p>“You know that I’ve been looking for more opportunities to help out and bite this stupid Republic in the ass,” Miyoko replied, her voice bitter. “And it sounds like you’re presenting that exact opportunity to me. Why wouldn’t I take it? Is there a catch?” </p><p>“Well, no,” Xiulan said. “I’m just … pleasantly surprised, that’s all. I guess I underestimated your passion. Come on then, let’s get to a phone so I can call him up.” </p><p>Xiulan smiled before hooking her elbow around Miyoko’s, linking their arms together. She laughed at the immediate reddening of Miyoko’s ears. She pulled them through the market crowd and across the street, heading into the fray to find a payphone.</p><p>After a short call and a brief walk, they found themselves outside of a sincere-looking izakaya. They ducked in, indicating to the waiter who greeted them that they already had a table. They removed their shoes, storing them in bins near the door, and proceeded up the narrow stairs to the second floor. Xiulan beckoned for Miyoko to follow her to the room in the back corner, which she and Shinjiro always requested when they dropped in. She slid one of the paper doors open and poked her head in. </p><p>“Evening, you,” she greeted, seeing Shinjiro kneeling before the table. She stepped in, and pulled Miyoko along with her. Upon seeing their guest, Shinjiro bowed deeply. “Shin, this is Ito Miyoko.” </p><p>Shinjiro bowed deeply. “Greetings, Miyoko. Thank you for deciding to meet with me, despite my past actions and reputation.” </p><p>Miyoko stammered. “Wh—Wha …” </p><p>“Shinjiro!” Xiulan exclaimed, turning red. “What kind of introduction is that?!” </p><p>Shinjiro froze, still bowing. “You mean. You had not told her who I am?”</p><p>Miyoko glanced between the two in confusion, and Xiulan put a hand to her forehead with a sigh. “No, I haven’t told her yet. I just, I wanted you two to meet like <em>normal </em>people first.” Reluctantly, she pulled her gaze towards Miyoko. “I’m so sorry, Miyoko. Shinjiro is uh, the Akuma Shogun or whatever.” </p><p>Miyoko’s eyes widened. “A-Akuma Shogun?” she echoed. In a panic, she bowed fiercely. “Sir, it’s an honor to meet you! Had I known, I would’ve, would’ve …” </p><p>Shinjiro finally straightened himself up. He patted Miyoko’s shoulder, urging her to straighten herself up as well. When she did, he shook his head gently at her. “No need for such formalities. I am your equal.” </p><p>Mouth ajar, Xiulan stared. She grabbed Miyoko’s arm. “Wait, are you telling me that name has significance to you? You know him?” </p><p>“How could I not?” Miyoko responded firmly. She glanced Shinjiro’s way before continuing. “What the Akuma Shogun did back then … it certainly changed a lot of things. It was a huge event.” </p><p>“I created chaos,” Shinjiro murmured humbly. “Let us be frank with our words.” </p><p>Miyoko pursed her lips. “For some, maybe. For others, you created inspiration. Allow me to say … welcome back, sir.”  </p><p>Shinjiro was surprised by her words. He bowed again. “You give me far too much credit, Ms. Ito.” </p><p>Miyoko still stood somewhat amazed. Then, she let out a light laugh and nudged Xiulan. “Y’know, I was a bit worried when you told me you lived alone with a guy. Now, hah … now I don’t even know what to think.”</p><p>Shinjiro gestured for them to sit. “I’ve already ordered some sake to our room—it should be here shortly. Shall we start our discussion?” </p><p>When they sat, Miyoko couldn’t help herself from studying Shinjiro a bit. He looked much different than she remembered. Or … did she even remember what he looked like? It was quite a few years ago by now, and she suddenly recalled the news being unusually void of photos. Rather, what she must have felt was that he looked different than she might have imagined in her head. Despite his rugged reputation he looked quite, well, elegant to be truthful. His robes were a silky violet so deep that they appeared black until they were caught in a strong light. His hair nearly blended in, as it went past his shoulders and had an equally silky sheen. Stuck like a pin in his topknot was a lacquered chopstick, complete with a small glass charm dangling off the thicker end. His face, though littered with faded scars, was unusually serene and handsome. </p><p>Perhaps he was lying about his identity? With a history such as that of the Akuma Shogun’s, she was sure that many would want to take credit for his work. Then again, why put himself into such risk …</p><p>The paper doors slid open, and a waiter came in with a bottle of sake and three shot glasses. Shinjiro poured them each a shot, carefully passing them the glasses. He raised his for a toast. </p><p>“To the many discussions I hope we have in the future,” he announced, nodding at the two sitting across from him.  They nodded back, raising their glasses as well. There was a <em>clink </em>of glasses as they cheered. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>As soon as Jinichi returned home, he heaved a content sigh. He flipped on the lights, illuminating the foyer and beyond. Like usual, it seemed quiet. He figured Miyoko to be still at her dojo. After removing his shoes, he shuffled over to the phone, where he picked up the receiver and held it to his ear as he flipped through the tiny memo pad filled with different numbers. He finally found the number to his favorite Thai restaurant, grinned with success, and dialed the number. He ordered an entree for himself, as well as a side of tofu fried with sweet chili oil that he knew Miyoko loved. Then, he wandered into the living room and plopped himself onto the sofa. </p><p>He turned on the big flatscreen TV fixed to the wall and relaxed. He lifted his legs onto the sofa and began to remove the braces, unstrapping them swiftly and dropping them onto the floor with a metallic clatter. Stretching himself out on the sofa, he yawned loudly and picked up the remote to find something good to watch. Maybe a movie, he thought, opening the online media channel to look for something to stream. He settled for a family drama that had been popular in theaters just the other month. </p><p>About thirty minutes later, the doorbell chimed. Jinichi paused the movie, reached for his cane, and gently stood. Without his braces, his legs were far less sturdy. But it was nice to get in a couple short walks without them. He slowly, carefully made his way over to the door, where he greeted the deliveryman and paid for his food order. He took the steaming bag back into the living room, getting comfortable once more and resuming his movie. He dug into his pad see yew, grinning with a certain end of the day laziness. </p><p>Jinichi woke with a start as he heard the front door being unlocked, then pushed open. He groggily looked around. Outside the windows, the sky was pitch black. The TV, which had returned to the movie selection menu long ago, indicated that the time was nearly four in the morning. Slowly, Jinichi sat up. </p><p>“Miyoko? Is that you?” he called, rubbing his eyes. The movement of his body caused the motion-sensor lights to gently glow back to life. He squinted. </p><p>Miyoko popped her head into the living room. “Yup. It’s me.” </p><p>Still subdued by sleep, Jinichi continued squinting at her in the bright light. “What are you doing, just getting home? It’s . . it’s so late.” Suddenly, as if looking for something, he began to peer around. He clumsily grabbed the plastic bag containing the tofu he’d ordered for her, and lifted it up so she could see. “Here, I got you tofu.” </p><p>Miyoko stepped into the living room and dimmed the lights to a lower setting so her brother could stop squinting so harshly. She came over to him and noticed his leg braces on the floor, and the TV glowing dully. She grinned and accepted the plastic bag. “Thanks. Why aren’t you in bed?” </p><p>“Why aren’t you?” Jinichi retorted. “You come home so late nowadays. What are you up to?” </p><p>Miyoko put the bag of food aside, and sat on the edge of the sofa. “You wouldn’t like it if I told you.” </p><p>Suddenly, Jinichi straightened up. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes and stared intently at her. “What do you mean? Are you okay?” </p><p>“I’m fine! Don’t worry,” Miyoko assured him. She put a hand on his shoulder, and patted him. “I’m totally safe. And perfectly happy.” </p><p>Jinichi eyed her doubtfully. He pouted. “Well … it sounds like it’s a good thing for you. Why do you think I wouldn’t like it?” </p><p>Miyoko chewed her lip. The reason she had begun to stay out so late was of course to spend time with Xiulan and Shinjiro. While they mostly just talked, they had already tampered with one or two police stations. And some other small things. She glanced at her brother. “Promise you won’t get mad, then?” </p><p>Jinichi folded his arms. “I suppose.” </p><p>His sister stared at him in earnest. “Well. I’ve been hanging out with some people. People with good intentions, and good ideas …” </p><p>As she trailed off, Jinichi’s brows furrowed. “Oh, you don’t mean—”</p><p>“Before you get mad, listen to me,” Miyoko interrupted, casting him a fierce gaze. “We <em>aren’t</em> doing anything wrong. We’re just helping those in need.”  </p><p>“But the things you do to help those people are illegal!” Jinichi cried. “How can you say you’re not doing anything wrong?” </p><p>“Because it’s the laws that are wrong, Jinichi,” Miyoko fired back. “I know you think so, too. Your best friend’s a human, for crying out loud. And you run your shop out of a Neutral District so that you can serve human customers. You know that it’s unfair what the Republic does to them.”</p><p>Jinichi glowered at her. “Maybe, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid enough to go out and recklessly break laws to try and prove a point that no one will listen to.” </p><p>Miyoko stood up from the couch. “So you’re calling me stupid.” </p><p>“I’m calling you reckless!” Jinichi exclaimed, his face hot with frustration. “You’re gonna get hurt, and get in trouble, and—and god knows what, Miyoko! Is it really worth it?” </p><p>Noting the panic override the anger in her brother’s voice, Miyoko cooled down. “Of course it is. If I sit around without taking action, I’m not a neutral party—I’m just part of the problem.” </p><p>Jinichi looked crossly at the floor. “There you go, sounding like some radical activist again.” </p><p>“And what’s wrong with that.” </p><p>The cold, toughness could be easily felt in her words. Jinichi looked up at her. “This isn’t going anywhere. Let’s stop talking about it.” </p><p>Miyoko sighed, and gave a slow shake of her head. “You’re so stubborn.” </p><p>“So are you, sis,” Jinichi countered. “Did you forget who gave us all of this? Who got me able to start wearing these?” he asked, gesturing at the room around them, as well as at his braces still on the floor. </p><p>“Of course not,” Miyoko responded. “But that doesn’t mean I can just turn a blind eye to all the awful stuff the Republic does, either.” </p><p>Jinichi huffed. “Well. I know I won’t be able to stop you,” he admitted. Miyoko looked somewhat guilty as she glanced away. “But I don’t want you trying to rope me into it, either. So how about a truce?” </p><p>If she was being honest with herself, Miyoko wasn’t too pleased with his offer. A truce? So she would keep her mouth shut while her twin brother went on living in ignorant bliss? Well … she supposed he wasn’t too content with his own offer, either. She knew he would prefer her to stop engaging in any kind of “radical” activities. So, perhaps this really was the best option. </p><p>“Fine. Truce,” she agreed, her shoulders sagging in defeat. “I’ll shut up about it.” </p><p>“And I’ll get off your ass about it,” Jinichi murmured. Then, he yawned. “Being out so late isn’t good for you though, you know.” </p><p>Miyoko was able to crack a small smile. “Sleeping on the couch is no good, either. Let’s both head to bed.” she suggested. She gathered up Jinichi’s braces in one arm, and extended the other. He reached out, using her immense strength as support, and picked up his cane. They slowly walked together to their respective bedrooms. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The following morning was particularly chilly. Hyunsoo detected a certain autumn crispness in the air, which was a new and refreshing sensation in regards to the sweltering, humid heat that plagued Japan all summer. The early morning sky was a faint light blue, with the rising sun still on its way up behind the mountains in the distance. Hyunsoo could spot a few lingering stars around the outer edges of the horizon. </p><p>He turned down empty street after empty street. Here and there, a chicken squawked as it pattered across the road. He saw a baker through the still-dark windows of his bakery, preparing doughs for the day. Other than these things, the shutters were still drawn on every storefront, and the neon signs were at rest with bleak gray tones. The market smelled like cooled smoke rather than the usual fragrant scents of cooking meat, fish, snacks, and sauces. In the distance, he could hear the cawing of some crows. </p><p>Finally reaching the entrance to his father’s smithery, Hyunsoo dug into his pockets to pull out the keys. On weekends, it was his duty to come early in the morning to get the ovens and machinery ready for the day. He had to chop up fire wood, make sure there was enough coal, and properly oil all the machines to make sure nothing broke down during their operating hours. He didn’t particularly love the work, especially since chopping fire wood took a certain amount of strength that he didn’t quite possess. But it was nice, he had to admit, to have a few hours of solace in the quiet mornings without his father bearing down on him.</p><p>As he inserted the key into the rusted lock on the front door, he felt a presence behind him. He turned to look, and saw two bodies standing stiffly. But before he could get a detailed look at either of them, there was a bag over his head. </p><p>“Hey, what the—ow!” he cried as the back of his knees were kicked in. He collapsed to the floor. He blinked. He had suddenly become very drowsy.  He blinked again, and this time, his eyes threatened to stay closed. He felt his elbows being lifted out, and had the vague feeling of being put back on his feet. But he couldn’t be sure. His head swung forward, as he was unable to hold it up. He blinked, blinked again. Tried to blink once more, but there was only darkness. He thought his legs might be moving, but he didn’t feel them. There were no sounds. </p><p>And then, he blacked out. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. First Arc: Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The weather the past week had gotten significantly cooler, and consequently the sales of heat-related ailments had gone, too. Jinichi took inventory of the potions he had leftover at the end of the week, noting that the most popular product had switched to fall allergen relief potions. He grinned at his clipboard. Just as he had anticipated. </p><p>Still, there was something else that felt off. The store had been closed for over half an hour now, and he had gone through the entire ritual of tending to the plants in his greenhouse already. Yet, Hyunsoo had still not shown up. Jinichi glanced at the clock above his work desk. It was getting close to nine o’clock. </p><p>By the time he had finished inventory, it was just before nine and Hyunsoo still had not come. Jinichi shrugged and gathered his things. Hyunsoo didn’t always come on Fridays, nor did he come every week. Sure, he almost always did, but …</p><p>Must be busy, Jinichi thought to himself, heading out the door. He locked it up securely. Or didn’t find anything worth bringing me this week. It wasn’t unheard of. </p><p>Hyunsoo still had not come by the following Friday. </p><p>Mystified, Jinichi reviewed all his calendars and papers at his desk to see if Hyunsoo had mentioned something about taking a break or being out of town. He couldn’t find any memo of the sort. Confused, he began to make his way home. </p><p>He was greeted with a dark, empty apartment once again. In fact, he couldn’t recall the last time he’d come home to find Miyoko already there. It must’ve been some weeks ago already. He turned on the lights to slip his shoes off, and the rest of the lights turned themselves on as he moved down the hall to get to the phone. He picked it up and dialed Hyunsoo’s family’s house. </p><p>“Hello?” came a small, familiar voice—Hyunsoo’s mother.</p><p>“Ah, hello!” Jinichi greeted, delighted to hear her voice. “It’s Jinichi.” </p><p>“Oh, Jinichi dear,” the voice cooed, sounding awfully heartfelt. “So good … to hear from you.” </p><p>Her voice seemed terribly weak and tired. Jinichi noted it was about ten-thirty at night, and apologized. “Sorry I’m calling so late, Mrs. Min. I just got home from work. I was wondering if I could talk to Hyunsoo?” </p><p>There was a moment of staticy silence. “I’m afraid he’s not a-available.” </p><p>Jinichi furrowed his brows. “Oh? Um, alright. I haven’t seen him in a while. Do you know when he’ll be back?” </p><p>“He’s—we don’t, h-he,” came Mrs. Min’s trembling voice on the receiver. “He’s been—oh, Hyunsoo …” </p><p>Jinichi’s gaze grew fiercely intense. “Mrs. Min? What are you trying to say?” he asked, his voice urgent. “Where’s Hyunsoo?” </p><p>“Taken, he—oh, god,” her voice came, muffled as she stifled her sobs. “O-Our Hyunsoo. He’s been kidnapped.” </p><p>His lips parted in shock, and Jinichi stared blankly at the tiles under his feet. In his ear was the sound of Mrs. Min’s sobs. “I …I don’t—” he stuttered. His neck flashed cold with an anxious sweat. “Mrs. Min …” </p><p>“I’m s-sorry, dear,” she choked out in a whisper. “I have to go.” </p><p>Before Jinichi could react, there was a click. And the line went dead. He stood there, holding an inactive receiver to his ear and staring at the ground, for minutes. </p><p>… How could Hyunsoo have been kidnapped? They had just been talking the other week. Talking about the kidnappings, even. What would anyone want from an innocent, hard-working guy like Hyunsoo? Why him? When did it happen? Why wasn’t he looking out for himself better? </p><p>These questions, and more, rattled around his brain. In his shocked stupor, he clumsily put the receiver back and sank to the ground, his already weak legs giving way beneath him. He stared long and hard at the distant coffee table in the living room. </p><p>Hyunsoo, kidnapped. </p><p>Even when he felt his eyes grow tired and strained, Jinichi could not look away from the table. He could not move. He could not do anything. That’s exactly how he felt—that he could not do anything, not one thing. He felt lost and totally helpless. He could not do anything. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Although it had grown dark, and the streets they walked down were fairly deserted, Xiulan and Miyoko were still wary about holding hands or linking elbows as they walked. Instead, they walked close enough to have their arms brush with each step. They exchanged doleful smiles. Without speaking, Xiulan reached for one of the lotus seed buns in the bag slung over her shoulder and pulled it into two pieces. She handed one half to Miyoko, who accepted it with a far less dejected grin. </p><p>“Are you absolutely sure your brother won’t mind us coming over?” Xiulan asked, savoring the lotus seed paste in her mouth. </p><p>“Yeah, I’m sure.” Miyoko chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “He and I have our disagreements, but I’ll bet he’d love to meet you. He’s always curious about my dating life.” </p><p>Xiulan smirked. “That’s cute.” </p><p>“I guess so.” Miyoko shrugged, a bit bashful. “It’s just rare for us, to have dates. So we have fun with it.” </p><p>“Rare?” Xiulan asked in shock. “You’ve gotta be kidding. You’re such a badass.” </p><p>“Heh, well maybe that’s part of he problem,” Miyoko replied, blushing. “Most people don’t wanna date someone who could break their ribs with a flick of a finger.” </p><p>“Couldn’t be me.” Xiulan side-eyed her, and the two snickered.</p><p>“When you factor in my long hours at the dojo, and that I’m not into men, well …” Miyoko went on, making gestures with her hands. “It just makes it that much rarer to pick up a date.”</p><p>Xiulan happily licked a spot of lotus seed paste off her thumb. “Good thing I’m a woman and always at your dojo then, huh?” She winked, and Miyoko grinned with embarrassment. “Well. What about your brother then?” </p><p>Miyoko heaved a small sigh. She scratched the back of her ear. “He’s, um. He’s got a disability. He wears leg braces.” </p><p>Xiulan watched her speak, then nodded slowly and looked at her bun. She suddenly found that she could not quite bring herself to take the last bite. “That’s fucked,” she said a bit solemnly. “And I’ll bet, since he’s your twin, he’s just as good-looking, too.” </p><p>Somewhat bitterly, Miyoko grinned. “He sure is. He’s a handsome jackass, alright. It’s just that society would only agree if they consider him from the waist up.” </p><p>Xiulan uttered a noise of discontent. She hastily stuffed the last piece of the bun into her mouth. “Maybe I’ll ask him out, too. Get the best of both worlds.” </p><p>Miyoko eyed her as they walked. “You got anymore of those buns? ‘Cause maybe you should stuff your mouth with ‘em and shut up.” </p><p>Giggling, Xiulan elbowed her. “Heh, hey, jealousy looks pretty good on you, Miyoko.”</p><p>It was nearly midnight by the time they reached Miyoko’s apartment complex. It was earlier than she had been coming home most nights, but it was still quite late. Maybe Jinichi would already be asleep. The complex was a tall, silver building, and it shone with metallic steeliness in the bright moonlight. At the fingerprint scanner fixed to the wall near the entrance, Xiulan whistled in awe as she looked around. The glass doors slid open with a smooth mechanic whirr, and they headed into the lobby. There was a seated waiting area, a large front desk, and a chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Miyoko headed straight for the elevator, but Xiulan took a few moments longer as she spun around to take a look. It felt to her like an upscale hotel. </p><p>“Damn, you didn’t tell me you lived in the Ritz,” Xiulan said in awe as she joined Miyoko in the elevator. </p><p>The button marked with a 14 lit up as Miyoko pressed it. “I don’t like to talk about it. The Republic subsidizes housing for my brother.” </p><p>Xiulan nodded understandingly. Naturally, she would want to live with her twin brother. And if the government were subsidizing rent in a nice complex with accessibility amenities, why complain? “Just let me over more often, and I’ll forgive you,” she joked. </p><p>The elevator had glass walls, and as they ascended, Xiulan turned to look out the backside where a courtyard was visible. When they reached the 14th floor, they headed out into an open corridor and followed its path as it curved around the hollow in the center of the building. Xiulan trotted to the edge of the banister, where she peered over to see the courtyard. There was a well-lit fountain in the center, and it was surrounded by large, lush tropical plants. There were several small tables and chairs, and the closed storefront of what looked like a small cafe stand. She whistled in amazement. Then she rejoined Miyoko, who was leading the way to the apartment. </p><p>Miyoko unlocked the front door with an electronic key that she simply pressed against a pad on the wall. It beeped softly, and they heard the mechanism unlock. Miyoko pushed the door open, seeing that the main lights were off. There was only a faint glow down the hallway a bit, maybe coming from a lamp in the living room or something of the sort. She stepped in, and invited Xiulan in after her. As they took off their shoes, the lights detected their movement and turned themselves on. </p><p>“This is so fancy,” Xiulan remarked, watching the automatic lights. </p><p>“Don’t remind me,” Miyoko murmured. </p><p>Xiulan reassuringly touched her arm. “Hey, don’t take it so seriously. It’s a nice place! Besides, it’s not like you chose this place, or the ridiculous pricetag. I bet your brother is grateful to you everyday for living here with him.” </p><p>Miyoko smiled gratefully at her, but said nothing more on the matter. Instead, she jerked her head in the direction of the hallway. “C’mon—the living room is down this way. Let’s get that movie started.” </p><p>The two moved down the hall, their feet padding softly on the highly polished wood floor. Miyoko entered the living room first, and the lights once again noticed her and turned themselves on. Before Xiulan even had the chance to enter the room behind her, she heard a loud gasp. </p><p>Slumped over on the floor, propped against the bookshelf by the breakfast counter, was Jinichi. Miyoko immediately ran to him and got onto her knees. His head was bent forward, and as Miyoko lifted his chin, she saw that his eyes were open. Well, barely. They were puffy, red, and swollen with tears. His face was horridly pale. </p><p>“Jinichi! Hey, Jin-chan, what’s wrong?” </p><p>Slowly, Xiulan crept into the room to see what had happened. She saw Miyoko cupping her brother’s tear-streaked face, pushing wispy locks of minty-colored hair out of his eyes. Although she had never seen his face before, Xiulan could clearly see that something was gravely wrong with him now. She stood quietly, watching with concern. </p><p>“… Ah, Miyoko,” Jinichi breathed, his eyes moving to meet his sister’s. They seemed lifeless. </p><p>“Jin-chan,” Miyoko said, patting his cheek. She took a moment to look his body over, but he didn’t seem to be in any pain. “Are you okay? What happened? Hey, talk to me, Jin-chan.” </p><p>Their voices grew so quiet that Xiulan, who was just a few feet away, could only hear faint murmurs. </p><p>“Hyun … Hyunsoo,” Jinichi mumbled. He finally lifted a hand, bringing it weakly to his face to rub his eyes. “He’s gone.” </p><p>Miyoko froze. “Gone? What do you mean, gone?” </p><p>Jinichi closed his eyes. He took in a deep, slow breath. “They took him. I don’t know where. No one knows where.” </p><p>Miyoko’s face lit up with alarm as she heard his words. She glanced over her shoulder, at Xiulan. But Xiulan, having heard nothing, could only return her gaze with similar alarm. Miyoko turned back to her brother and coaxed him to his feet. </p><p>“Okay, let’s get you to bed for now,” she told him gently. </p><p>But Jinichi shook his head somberly. “I can’t fall asleep.” </p><p>Miyoko looked at him, her lips pursed in concern. She couldn’t force him into his bed, she knew. Instead, she walked him over to the sofa and let him sit on the edge of the cushion. He stared numbly at his feet. </p><p>Xiulan straightened up as Miyoko came over to her, pulling her into the hallway. Her expression was grave. “I think his best friend’s been kidnapped.” </p><p>Finally, Xiulan understood the gravity of the situation. “Kidnapped? Like—?”</p><p>“Just like what we’ve been seeing all over, yeah,” Miyoko affirmed. “His friend, he … he’s a human. His family was struggling to keep their smithery business open, too. They lived in one of the worse parts of the fourth district.” </p><p>“Oh, no,” Xiulan sighed, putting a hand to her heart. She recalled Jinichi’s desolate expression and could only imagine his pain. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything more. </p><p>They were standing in heavy silence in the hall, when they heard Jinichi’s faint voice. “Miyoko?” </p><p>Giving Xiulan a nod, Miyoko urged her to follow her back into the living room. As they reappeared, Jinichi thought that he would like to smile at them, especially the girl he had never seen before who had been unfortunately thrown into all of this. He wanted very bad to smile at her, in fact. But the muscles in his face simply wouldn’t conform to the commands in his head. He looked up at his sister. </p><p>“Do you … do you know anything about this?” he asked her, with a sniffle. “Do you know why they took him?” </p><p>Furrowing her brows, Miyoko looked conflictingly at the ground. “We made an agreement not to talk about it.” </p><p>Jinichi’s eyes widened. “You know something? Miyoko, you have to tell me! What do you know?!” </p><p>Miyoko jumped at her brother’s agitation. Her cheeks began to turn flush with frustration. “Of course I know something! And I’ve been trying to tell you about it, but you never want to listen!” </p><p>Instinctively, Xiulan reached forward to touch Miyoko’s shoulder. “You can’t get mad at him, not at a time like this,” she said with worry, glancing between the two siblings. “What’s the problem?” </p><p>“We made an agreement,” Miyoko replied bitterly. She explained the disagreements between her and Jinichi over activism, or what he believed was senseless radicalism. Through the whole explanation, he just looked towards the wall, still with a blank expression. </p><p>“Well, I think now’s a good time to set those differences aside,” Xiulan advised, caution in her voice. </p><p>“That’s fine with me! It’s him who has a problem—” Miyoko began to argue, but was cut off by a harsh glare from Xiulan. She flickered her eyes over to Jinichi. Miyoko could see now, the tears that had silently started to slide down his cheeks. She finally held her tongue. </p><p>“Why don’t we take this up with Shinjiro?” Xiulan asked quietly. Miyoko’s face seemed to flash with doubt.</p><p>“Shinjiro? Who’s that? Does he know anything about this?” Jinichi suddenly asked, looking up at the two of them. The light reflected especially brightly in his teary eyes. “When can I talk to him? Tonight?” </p><p>Miyoko opened her mouth to say something, but Xiulan sensed the hostility and shook her head. She turned to address Jinichi instead. “We can’t be sure. We would have to go find him.” </p><p>Immediately, Jinichi began to stand. “Well, let’s go then,” he announced. But Miyoko pulled him back down. In his weakened state, he nearly fell into the cushions. </p><p>“You are definitely not coming,” she declared. “And we aren’t going to go get him unless you promise to stay here and try to sleep.” </p><p>As she said this, she spoke sternly but smoothed his hair down with care. After a while, Jinichi nodded. And Miyoko pulled him in for a hug. She was able to coax him into his bed, where he lay staring at the ceiling. Even as she left the room and hit the lights, he remained that way. Closing the door, Miyoko sighed. </p><p>“Do you have any idea where Shinjiro could be right now?” Miyoko asked, coming to the foyer to see Xiulan already putting her shoes back on. </p><p>“Hmm. Wednesday at midnight?” Xiulan wondered aloud. She grinned. “Only once place.”</p><p>She moved to open the door, and Miyoko looked at her with uneasiness. Although she didn’t know what else she could possibly do, she also felt that this simply wouldn’t work out. Would Jinichi really be so quick to change his mindset about the kidnappings, the Sage Republic, and all the rest? Even she, his own twin sister, couldn’t do anything to persuade him in the past … </p><p>But she supposed there was simply no other choice. She slipped on her shoes. She took a glance over her shoulder, seeing the dark crack in the door to Jinichi’s bedroom. It was totally silent. Then, she turned back to Xiulan with a nod. And they set out. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Despite the endless buildings that sprawled across the land, all the way to the horizon, it was oddly peaceful. Most of the lights that filled the dark streets were a hazy, burnt-out yellowish orange. Those old fluorescent bulbs created a warm glow throughout the skyline. But in the distance, in bright white and shining metal, loomed the cold skyscrapers of the Republic districts. Colored spotlights drifted through the sparse clouds. Helicopters circled the skyscrapers like tiny lazy, bugs. Shinjiro peered at the area with a grotesque fascination. </p><p>He slid his hand up the neck of his shamisen, and pressed down on a string with gentle pressure. He struck a chord with the bachi, and the sharp note cut through the stuffy, warm midnight air. He closed his eyes and began to play, listening to the sounds of his shamisen blend with the nonstop sounds of the city below.</p><p>As he lifted his bottle of sake to pour another cup, he realized to his dismay that it was empty. He frowned, shaking it to check for any possible contents. Just as he set it back down on the ground, he heard a door open some ways behind him. He turned to see, as expected, a waiter from the bar below with a fresh bottle on his tray. Shinjiro grinned, holding up his empty bottle to signal that it could be taken away. </p><p>But there appeared someone else behind the waiter. Followed by yet another. In the darkness, Shinjiro squinted. It was Xiulan and Miyoko. Surprised, he waved them over and bowed as they neared. The waiter had also brought two more sake cups, accordingly. Shinjiro thanked him, and he left the three of them alone on the rooftop. </p><p>Shinjiro looked up at his guests. He gestured for them to sit. “Good evening,” he said, finding his voice to be more slurred than he had anticipated. “For what occasion do I have the honor of this visit?” </p><p>Xiulan and Miyoko exchanged glances before carefully sitting before him. “Evening, Shinjiro,” Miyoko greeted with a bow. Xiulan reached for the sake, and poured everyone a cup. </p><p>“We’ve run into a small dilemma,” Xiulan began, her voice somewhat playful as usual. Shinjiro raised a brow as they all pushed their cups together for a toast. Xiulan took a large gulp of sake. “I know you prefer to be alone up here. But I think this’ll be of interest to you.” </p><p>Shinjiro fingered the neck of his shamisen and began to play a new tune. He nodded, encouraging her to go on. He looked at Miyoko as well. “I’m listening.” </p><p>Miyoko cleared her throat, nodding at his permission. Her eyes focused on his fingers, sliding up and down the shamisen strings. “It’s … my brother. His best friend, a human, has been kidnapped.” </p><p>“Once he’s recovered from shock, I think he could help us,” Xiulan added somewhat eagerly. </p><p>But Shinjiro caught the doubtful look that Miyoko cast as soon as the words were out of her mouth. He raised his brow. “What else?” he asked. He downed some sake as the two glanced at each other in awkward silence. </p><p>“My brother, he—I think he really wants to know what’s going on. He’s worried sick about his friend, Hyunsoo. And he’s such a promising, powerful sage, too, without any sort of prejudices against humans,” Miyoko dared, thinking carefully about her words. “But he and I have our … differences. I won’t say he’s an avid fan of the Republic, but he does support it.” </p><p>A somber, but strong chord struck the tension-filled air. “I do not wish to associate with him.” </p><p>Shinjiro’s voice was stern and low, but still extremely respectful. He bowed his head and cast his eyes to his knees as he said this, acting in sincerity. Miyoko gritted her teeth and nodded. She had expected as much. It made the most sense, after all. </p><p>But Xiulan started. “Now wait a minute!” she exclaimed, shocking Miyoko. But Shinjiro didn’t even flinch. “I think you ought to meet him, at least once.” </p><p>“He could very easily put us in danger,” Shinjiro argued calmly. “The Republic offers a tempting reward for even the most moderate of sage citizens to turn in heretics like us. You know that.” </p><p>“I just don’t sense that kind of malice in him,” Xiulan insisted. “Besides, if he’s anything like Miyoko, then he must have a good heart. Maybe he just hasn’t had the opportunity to learn about our side of things yet. Maybe he didn’t think he ever needed to, but he’s willing to now. This could be a chance to change him and help him, Shin.”                </p><p>Miyoko remained silent throughout their exchange. Instead, she anxiously watched Shinjiro’s reactions. But he remained calm. “The risk at hand is too lethal for us to make judgements based on intuition and optimism.” </p><p>“Well, then, let’s form a plan out of this.” Xiulan scooted forward, frustrated. “How about we keep your identity a secret?” </p><p>Shinjiro’s eyes finally held some interest. “You think that by him not knowing who I am, we can gauge his trust?” </p><p>“Certainly.” Xiulan’s eyes glinted with determination, and Miyoko looked between them with hope. “If he really had some kind of darker incentive—which I know he doesn’t—then he wouldn’t have any interest in you. Just think of it as a safety precaution.” </p><p>The conversation stalled as Shinjiro adjusted the strings of his shamisen, strumming a few chords. After a while, he gave a small nod. “Your intuition has never been wrong.” He turned to Miyoko, to whom he bowed. “I’m sorry if I offended you by doubting your brother’s intentions. May you know that it does not reflect my perception of you, Miyoko.” </p><p>Caught off guard and flustered, Miyoko shook her hands in protest. “It’s fine, don’t worry,” she insisted, unable to match Shinjiro’s formality in her hurried speech. “I get it. I would’ve felt the same.” </p><p>Although he didn’t smile, there was somehow a grateful and happy expression that spread across Shinjiro’s face. He thanked her with another bow. “So. When shall we meet?” </p><p>“He’s resting now, but I assume he’d want to meet you as soon as possible,” Miyoko responded, less flustered. “Maybe in the morning?” </p><p>Shinjiro seemed to agree through the sturdy gaze that he cast her way. He pressed a string onto the shamisen’s neck, causing the chord he strummed to waver. “Tomorrow morning at ten. In front of the shellfish vendor in the market in third district.” </p><p>“I knew it!” Xiulan exclaimed, leaning forward with relief and giving him a hug round the neck. “You’re gonna make this guy so happy.” </p><p>Bending forward, Miyoko put her palms on the ground and gave the most humble bow she could offer. Her ears were bright red from a mixture of shame and embarrassment. “On behalf of my brother, thank you so much, Shinjiro.” </p><p>Muffled by Xiulan’s hug, it took Shinjiro a moment to realize how formally Miyoko was thanking him. He reached out to her immediately, tapping her arm to get her attention. He shook his head and motioned for her to sit up straight. “Please, don’t thank me. I have not done any sort of service to you, or Jinichi. I ask that you only ever view me as your equal.” </p><p>Having sat up, Miyoko nodded at him with a sheepish smile. Though she had only known him for about a month now, she knew that she would not be able to argue against him on this matter. More casually, she reaffirmed a simple, “Thanks, Shinjiro.” </p><p>They continued to share drinks, with Xiulan leading the energy of the group. Miyoko had grown cheery as well, but there was something nagging painfully at the back of her mind. Each minute that passed meant that Jinichi was one minute closer to meeting Shinjiro. And Jinichi wouldn’t know Shinjiro’s true identity. That was fine. But could Miyoko really let this happen, when she knew that she would be lying about Jinichi’s true identity as well? </p><p>Trying her best to push the thought away, to bury it somewhere deep within her brain, Miyoko brought the sake cup to her lips and took another drink. Tomorrow’s problems would come tomorrow.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. First Arc: Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Though he tried his hardest, Jinichi barely caught a wink of sleep that night. For perhaps an hour he’d fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion, but was awoken again by the sound of Miyoko returning home. It had sounded like she was alone. He felt bad about that. He rolled over in his bed to face the wall, listening to her quietly pad around the apartment before slipping into her bedroom. He had probably ruined a potentially amazing night for her. </p><p>He heaved a sigh so deep that his shoulders caved in towards his chest when he exhaled. Whereas he had already been feeling helpless, he now felt burdensome as well. Although his eyes begged him for sleep, he stared hazily at the wall until he saw his window begin to turn light blue with morning light. </p><p>He must have managed to doze off one final time after that, because he heard the sound of knocking on his door and realized that he needed to open his eyes. Slowly, he rolled over onto his back. </p><p>“Hey, Jin-chan? You awake?” came Miyoko’s voice, muffled by the door. </p><p>Jinichi blinked, his eyes dry and stiff. “Yeah. Come on in.” </p><p>Gently, Miyoko opened the door and headed in. Usually, Jinichi’s room was the epitome of coziness: bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with books on biology, gardening, and agriculture, and laden with quirky knick-knacks that only Jinichi had the eye for. He was a sucker for soft lighting, and had a variety of lamps that emitted sleepy, warm glows or even changed colors. An oil diffuser puffed away on his nightstand, next to some of his journals and writing tools. And there were lush plants everywhere. </p><p>But today, although nothing about his room had changed, it felt cold and stifling. Miyoko made her way inside, her feet brushing atop the plush rug in the center of his room. She sat on the edge of his bed and gazed down at her brother, whose eyes were terribly puffy. She pushed her mouth into a somber smile. </p><p>“How’d you sleep?” she asked him. </p><p>Jinichi blinked. He sighed. “Sorry about last night.” </p><p>“Don’t be,” Miyoko refuted quickly, her smile dropping. “I’m sorry I was so reluctant to help you out.” </p><p>“You had good reason to be.” Jinichi murmured. He raised his brows and shook his head. “I’ve been such an ass to you, about everything.” </p><p>Miyoko bit her lip, and twiddled with her fingers. “So. You’re ready to talk to this guy I mentioned?” </p><p>Jinichi’s eyes widened. “You mean—? You’re really gonna let me meet him?” </p><p>Miyoko gave a certain nod. She patted her brother’s blanketed leg. “Get up and get ready. We’re meeting him at ten.” </p><p>Throwing the blankets off himself, Jinichi pushed himself up. “Shit, okay. Right.” He ruffled his bed-head hair around, and patted the sleepiness out of his cheeks. He saw Miyoko begin to stand up and leave. “Hey, thanks, sis. Thanks so much.” </p><p>Miyoko turned to him. “Don’t thank me yet. Okay? What happens from here is all up to you.” She gave him a curt nod before finally leaving his room. </p><p>Her words hung in the air as Jinichi sat upright in his bed. She was absolutely right. He scratched his arm, thinking hard about what that meant. Most likely, she was insinuating that he would need to start changing his mindset about the Republic, and especially about the people that his sister associated with and the activities they did together. She had allowed him into her secretive world—only secretive because he had forced her to keep quiet about it. And aside from allowing him in this one time, she would not hold his hand the rest of the way. </p><p>Quite anxiously, he slid out of bed. With help from his cane, he went to his wardrobe to pick out an outfit before heading into the shower. He had no idea how to dress for this occasion, frankly. He didn’t own any suits, or anything more formal than a plain dress-shirt, really. He furrowed his brows in thought as he rummaged through his things. He picked out a decent pair of jeans, the kind that cut off stylishly above the ankle. He pushed his tops around, looking for something to pair it with, when his eyes landed on a familiar jumper. Cautiously, he pulled it out. </p><p>It was a soft, tan-colored turtleneck jumper with a small embroidered design of a frog and some mushrooms on the corner of the chest. It was the one he’d bought weeks ago with Hyunsoo when they’d gone shopping together after work. </p><p>Jinichi recalled how it had actually been Hyunsoo who had recommended it to him. Although Hyunsoo was hopeless when it came to his own clothes, he always managed to spot a unique piece that suited Jinichi well. On that day, it had been this jumper. They were wandering through a store, finding nothing of particular interest. But then, Hyunsoo had tapped on Jinichi’s shoulder, holding up the jumper he’d found. </p><p>“Wha—that’s so cute! Where was it? I didn’t see it anywhere!” Jinichi had exclaimed, touching the embroidered frog. </p><p>“It was hiding behind several other jumpers,” Hyunsoo explained. “It looks like this is the last one, too. Do you like it?” </p><p>“Yeah, it’s cute as shit,” Jinichi laughed, taking it and holding it up to his chest. “Think I can pull it off?” </p><p>“I think it suits you perfectly,” Hyunsoo admitted. Jinichi beamed. “Especially with that, uh, that little guy in the corner.” He pointed to the frog. </p><p>“Right. I like him.” Jinichi smiled, and hung onto the jumper. “I can’t believe you dug up something so fitting for me! Yet you can’t even find a plain t-shirt that you like.” </p><p>Hyunsoo smiled his classic, sheepish smile, and shrugged bashfully. </p><p>It was such a simple memory, and had happened just weeks ago. But now, as Jinichi held the sleeve of the jumper in his hand, it felt so distant. It felt harrowingly sad. He gritted his teeth, and pulled the jumper from its hanger. He tossed it onto his bed to change into later. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p>As they walked through the market, and Xiulan once again caught sight of Shinjiro’s overwhelming weapons attached to him on all sides, she put her face in her hand and sighed. “I never thought you’d be such a disaster when it comes to first impressions.” </p><p>Shinjiro side-glanced at her. “What do you mean?” </p><p>“What do I mean?” Xiulan repeated, gawking at him. “You’re meeting some innocent, worried-sick, twin sibling of our good friend, and you’re showing up looking like a one-man army!” </p><p>“Simply precautions,” Shinjiro murmured, returning his gaze to the market street before them. </p><p>Xiulan groaned. “He’s already panicked out of his mind. And now you’re gonna scare him to death. Great, really, just great…” </p><p>“I do not want to undermine the seriousness of my intentions,” Shinjiro explained, moving through the crowd.</p><p>“You can do that without having a billion swords on you!” Xiulan exclaimed. But then, she laughed. “Whatever. You do you, Shin. Good luck trying to make an ally out of this guy.” </p><p>Shinjiro heeded her words, but said nothing. Instead, he lifted his chin as he spotted the shellfish vendor they had all planned to meet at. He didn’t see Miyoko yet. They stood off to the side, waiting patiently. Xiulan twiddled with her hair, and bounced her leg as she stood. Shinjiro, ever stoic, stood with his hands behind his back and gazed at the oysters, sea urchins, and other things moving around in the vendor’s tanks. </p><p>Minutes later, Shinjiro felt a tug on his sleeve. “Hey, Shin. There they are, coming in from the west.” Xiulan nodded in the direction she mentioned, and Shinjiro followed her gaze. </p><p>Shinjiro was shocked to see the pair that approached them. Familiar was Miyoko, who was fashioned similarly to them: plain hair, modest robes, and geta. Her brother next to her looked as though he lived a totally different lifestyle. He was taller than Miyoko by many centimeters, and did not appear to have the tough, muscular build that his sister did. In fact, he seemed quite lithe. His clothes stood out from much of the crowd around him, as he was wearing a parka over a jumper, along with jeans and sneakers. His hair was the thing that set him out the most. It was short and fluffy, and was colored a light, faint minty green. Not a single soul in the market aside from him had any hair color other than their natural black or brown. It was almost certainly because they could not afford it. </p><p>As the pair drew nearer, Shinjiro also couldn’t help from notice something else about the brother. He seemed to walk with a limp, but as Shinjiro observed more closely, he saw that he was using a cane as he walked. He also saw the metal braces on his legs. At first, Shinjiro glanced away. But then, he realized that might be the most offensive thing he could probably do. He briefly looked at the braces and cane once more before returning his gaze to the brother’s face.</p><p>“Here they come. Now, you behave yourself,” Xiulan warned, hitting Shinjiro’s arm. “We’re trying to get him on our side, remember?” </p><p>“I remember,” Shinwoo replied, somewhat forlorn.</p><p>As the four finally came together, Xiulan was the first to break the ice. She gave a slight bow, but instead chose to wave her hand as her main form of greeting. “Hi guys,” she sang, bright as ever. “Good to see you again, Jinichi.” </p><p>Jinichi smiled at her, but before he could open his mouth to say anything, the man next to her offered a bow. “Good morning. I’m Hada Shinjiro.” </p><p>Jinichi’s eyes widened as the man bowed, revealing a giant bladed weapon strapped to his back that Jinichi hadn’t noticed before. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. As the man straightened up again, Jinichi saw that the weapon on his back was not the only one he had—he also had two katana handles poking out from his waist. He was horrifyingly tall, and had long black hair that looked darker than night. His face, which was serious and intimidating, was decorated with a number of faded scars. His strong eyebrows made him appear permanently furious. Lastly, from the parts of his chest that were left exposed by his loose robes, Jinichi saw the sprawling designs of wabori tattoos. Just from one glance at this man, Jinichi felt as though all the stereotypes he’d heard about slumlords and gang leaders had come true. </p><p>Quite disgruntled, Jinichi hastily offered a deep bow. “Good morning, Mr. Hada. I’m humbled to be in your presence today…my name is Ito Jinichi. Thank you for meeting with me.” </p><p>Almost always, Shinjiro refused to be acknowledged so honorably by anyone, insisting that they greet each other as equals. But this time, he didn’t mutter anything of the sort, Xiulan noticed. She already felt worried about how the whole interaction would go. Taking the reigns again, she clasped her hands together. “Well!” she began, glancing between the entire group. She caught Shinjiro staring very intensely at Jinichi. With a nonchalant laugh, she kicked his leg. “I suppose you two, can erm, start your chat…I’ll hop into a cafe nearby with Miyoko.” </p><p>“Right,” Miyoko confirmed. She put her hand on Jinichi’s shoulder. “We’ll be nearby, so don’t worry, okay?” </p><p>“You mean, you guys aren’t staying..?” Jinichi asked, his eyes wide as he looked between his sister and Xiulan. </p><p>“Our conversation will be in private.” Shinjiro announced, his voice stony. To his side, Xiulan heaved a sigh. </p><p>“Like Miyoko said, we’ll be nearby,” Xiulan reaffirmed, offering an apologetic smile to Jinichi. </p><p>Once Miyoko and Xiulan left, Jinichi found himself totally reluctant to move. His eyes, which were out of focus, were stuck on Shinjiro’s collarbones and the black ink that curled over them. The inked face of a dragon peeked out at him from behind the robe. It was then that Jinichi’s brows knitted together, and he looked up at Shinjiro almost angrily. </p><p>“Well, let’s get on with it,” he said, taking Shinjiro by surprise. “I’ve got a best friend to look for, you know!” </p><p>Feisty, like his sister, Shinjiro thought to himself. He could almost laugh. He extended his arm towards the market street, gesturing that they should walk. “Let us go, then.” They began to walk through the busy market, and Shinjiro resumed his usual pose, with his hands behind his back. “Your sister tells me you’re a supporter of the Republic.” </p><p>Jinichi rolled his eyes. Of course this was going to be the first topic. “She exaggerates. I don’t support it,” Jinichi explained. “But I don’t hate it, either. I’m just in the middle.” </p><p>Shinjiro kept his eyes forward. “Which means you support it.” </p><p>He talks just like Miyoko, Jinichi noted with a faint grimace. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.” </p><p>“If you are not actively trying to suppress its power,” Shinjiro began, walking with calm strides, “then you are simply sitting idle, off to the side—correct?” </p><p>“That’s right,” Jinichi agreed. </p><p>“By sitting idly, you are still allowing the Republic to grow and prosper.” Shinjiro glanced over at Jinichi, who had no reaction other than the frustrated expression that he had begun with. “Sitting idle while an oppressive power grows stronger is exactly the same as supporting that oppressive power. Think of it as a plant in your yard. If it is watered and fed, it will grow strong. However, even if you choose to neglect it, the sunshine and rain will ensure that it still grows strong. Therefore, the only way you could ever kill it is to purposefully poison it or chop it down.” </p><p>Jinichi clenched his jaw. He’s one to talk about plants! he thought, bitterly amused. But he couldn’t deny the truth in Shinjiro’s metaphor. Still, a government wasn’t a plant. Surely it couldn’t be summarized so easily like that. </p><p>“That’s great and all, but what’s it got to do with my friend being kidnapped?” Jinichi retorted. </p><p>“Everything.” Shinjiro smirked, which annoyed Jinichi to no end. “If you want to find your friend, you will have to face the reality that the Republic is your enemy.” </p><p>Jinichi stared blankly ahead, at nothing in particular. “If  the Republic is responsible for this, then sure. Consider them my enemy in that regard.” He truly had no problem with that. But as they pressed onward, he noticed the foot of his cane already coated in muck and grime from the dirty market street. “Human nature isn’t so black and white though, you know. I can’t consider the entirety of the Republic my immediate enemy just because of one thing.”</p><p>Shinjiro wondered what on earth the Republic could have done to keep Jinichi’s favor, even after having taken his best friend. “If you are unwilling to consider it your enemy, then we have no reason to discuss anything further.” </p><p>“Oh, you can’t be serious—what, you think I’ll tattle on you guys or something?” Jinichi snorted. “Listen. Some of the policies that the Republic made, and some of the services and facilities it’s able to offer me, well…they’ve made my life a lot better. How could I hate the Republic for that? But it’s not like I’m sucking some bureaucrat’s dick.” </p><p>“Pardon?!” Shinjiro blurted out. </p><p>Jinichi peered at him with critical eyes, seeing his ears turn red. “You know…it’s not like I’m kissing up to anyone in particular within the Republic. I have no reason to sell you guys out,” he went on to explain. “Especially since that would mean getting my sister into trouble. I won’t run around and burn down buildings with you guys, but I won’t turn you in, either.”</p><p>“Ah. I see,” Shinjiro murmured, embarrassed to feel the warmth in his ears. “So in a sense, you view yourself as a neutral party to us as well.” </p><p>“Exactly,” Jinichi said. “You guys are the plant in my yard. I’m not going to water you, but I won’t chop you down, either. I’ll just watch you grow from the window, uninvolved in the process.” </p><p>Shinjiro nodded, coming to an understanding of the other’s character. “You operate on self-interest, then.  Not for a certain cause, nor for the common good.”</p><p>Jinichi paused to think. Well, he supposed that Shinjiro was right, but he had never seen himself that way. “When you put it that way, it’s awfully heartless, isn’t it?” he reflected. “I don’t do it on purpose…I guess I just haven’t really found a cause I feel like fighting for yet.” </p><p>This remark pricked Shinjiro’s ears. “Are you thinking that this—your friend being kidnapped—might be something worth fighting for?” </p><p>Jinichi’s only response was a meek shrug. He knew that this Shinjiro person was looking for ways to gauge his trustworthiness, and he didn’t want to give any false hope. He really, truly didn’t know what was worth “fighting for” in general. What did fighting even entail? Was it actually running around, vandalizing and burning down buildings, upturning government operations, and all that? If that was the case, then Jinichi could count himself out. But maybe there were other ways, too—more subtle, less dangerous ways. He simply did not know. </p><p> Shinjiro noted his shrug and said nothing. Uncertainty was better than refusal, he supposed. He recalled Xiulan’s words from last night, about how perhaps Jinichi just hadn’t yet had opportunities to learn about these kinds of situations. That could very well be true. Perhaps his opinions were still malleable. </p><p>He looked over curiously. “So, your friend. Tell me about him.” </p><p>“He’s the best friend I’ve ever had,” Jinichi said quickly, his frustration tinged with remorse. “What more can I say? There’s too many things to talk about. </p><p>Continuing to walk forward calmly, Shinjiro nodded. “I see. Well, to tell you the truth, Jinichi…I do not have any direct answers for you. Yet.” </p><p>Jinichi scowled. “Then why am I here? Why am I talking to you?!” </p><p>Shinjiro stopped walking. He turned to Jinichi, and saw the rage in his expressive, doe-like eyes. “Because along with your sister, Xiulan and I are trying to create a network of people whose friends and family have been kidnapped by the Republic. From there, we hope to find the answers we seek.” </p><p>“Well, that sounds oddly civil of you,” Jinichi remarked, giving the other a side-eyed glance. “What’re you gonna do to get those answers, huh? Plant some bombs, burn some buildings, kill a few officers?” </p><p>Shinjiro blinked patiently. “With a sturdy, large enough network, hopefully intel can be gathered simply by asking around,” he began to explain. He found himself able to smirk in the slightest. “But if things do require some dirty work, well…your sister, Xiulan, and I are happy to take on that role.” </p><p>“Tch, of course,” Jinichi muttered. “Don’t drag my sister into any of that.” </p><p>“With all due respect, I’m certain that Miyoko would agree with me when I say that we are happy to do the dirty work not because we are crime-loving adrenaline junkies,” Shinjiro began, humble but firm. “But rather because we see it as meaningful work to be done. We also see it as too dangerous for many others to take on—others who we’d rather protect.” </p><p>The fury in Jinichi’s gaze began to dissipate. His shoulders relaxed. As uncomfortable as he was with that sentiment, he could perfectly envision Miyoko saying those exact words to him. If such work really needed to be done, well, she would rather do it herself instead of push him into any dangerous situation. Bitterly, he looked to the side. No wonder Miyoko was so glued to these people’s sides. They were so alike. </p><p>“…So, what, then?” Jinichi started after a few moments of silence. “Are you inviting me to join this network of yours?” </p><p>“I’m trying to gauge your trustworthiness and loyalty first,” Shinjiro corrected with a smug grin. “Then we can talk about teaming up.” </p><p>They had walked down an entire block of the market, rounded a corner, and walked along the other side. As they rounded another corner, Jinichi could see the seafood vendor where they had started, as well as the cafe that Xiulan and his sister had ducked into. This conversation had done nothing to ease his anxieties, and in fact only made him more stressed and frustrated. He ran a hand through his hair. </p><p>“Well, if it pleases the judgement of your honor,” Jinichi began, his tone laden with cynicism. “Let me say this: you guys are my best chance at helping Hyunsoo. And you’re close with my sister, so I have good reason to trust you. So I gues…I guess I’m not opposed to it. Trusting you, I mean.” </p><p>Somehow, the halfheartedness of his comment made it seem extremely sincere. Shinjiro peered at him. “What if we meet up once more, to talk about what this might entail? You could get a better idea of what you may be getting into. We see if your opinions sway, in either direction.” </p><p>Although Jinichi knew he’d had a rotten expression and a sharp mouth during this whole conversation, he realized then that Shinjiro had never returned the same snark. Suddenly, he felt a bit ashamed. It seemed that Miyoko had been wary of this exact behavior. On top of shame, he also felt as though he’d betrayed her. He puffed his cheeks and heaved a sigh. </p><p>“Okay. Yeah, let’s do that,” Jinichi agreed, finally humbling his speech a bit. He looked up at the other and nodded. “Thanks for this.” </p><p>Shinjiro was taken aback by the sudden change in Jinichi’s disposition. The anger had pretty much vanished from his face. Though he had no idea what could’ve caused it, he was not going to complain. “Does Friday night work for you?” he asked. They passed the cafe which Xiulan and Miyoko had gone to, and they exchanged glances through the window. Xiulan waved and Miyoko offered a hopeful smile before getting up from their table. </p><p>“Yeah. Where should I meet you?” Jinichi asked. He looked over as he heard a bell sounding from an opening door, and saw Xiulan and Miyoko exiting the cafe and coming towards them. </p><p>“There is an izakaya that I frequent,” Shinjiro answered. “I’ll be sure to give the address to Miyoko for you.” </p><p>“So—how’d it go?!” Xiulan asked cheerily as the four of them reunited. She put her hands on her hips and glanced back and forth between the two men, as if admiring a work of art. “Fantastic, or what? Gee, it’s getting late in the morning, isn’t it? I’m hungry—anybody else? What do you say we all grab brunch together?”</p><p>“I think,” Shinjiro began, with a small smile, “that Jinichi desires a break from my presence. Perhaps another time.” </p><p>Xiulan heaved a great sigh and shook her head. “Can’t say I didn’t try. Well Shin, I want congee and youtiao.” </p><p>“Of course you do.” Shinjiro mused. Turning to Miyoko and Jinichi, he bowed at them both. “Today was a pleasure. Thank you both. I look forward to our next meeting.” </p><p>Next meeting?! they heard Xiulan exclaim, and babbling on as she and Shinjiro walked away.  Without saying anything, the twin siblings were able to communicate a similar understanding on what had just transpired. Miyoko looked at her brother with a grateful smile. In return, Jinichi heaved her a sigh and offered her a tired smile and a shake of his head. She chuckled. </p><p>“Not too bad, right?” she asked, as they headed in the opposite direction. “What do you think?” </p><p>“I think,” Jinichi began, letting out a laugh. “That I just had a conversation with a criminal overlord.” </p><p>“Hah! You wish.” Though she joked, she was suddenly overcome with a great uneasiness. She wondered if hiding Shinjiro’s identity as the Akuma Shogun had truly been a good decision, or not. She glanced at her brother. “You didn’t…you didn’t tell him about you, did you?” </p><p>Shaking his head, Jinichi offered a small but reassuring smile. “Nope. He didn’t ask, and I didn’t say.”</p><p>“O-kay,” Miyoko replied with a nod. “I won’t say anything unless you do, then.” </p><p>Although their mood couldn’t be described as uplifting, it was definitely more pacified than when they’d first arrived at the market. Jinichi seemed to have lost his temperamental edge, and Miyoko was relieved. Feeling decently satisfied, they decided to get udon for lunch. Jinichi’s treat.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. First Arc: Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>The few days that came before Friday felt like a liminal space in time, a sequence of false mornings and nights that had no significance or meaning. Jinichi would wake up, get himself ready for work, and operate through the day with the bare minimum amount of effort. If a customer approached the counter, he would total up their items and take their payment. If they asked for an item, he’d fetch it. At the end of the night, he watered his plants without particularly looking at any of them. As for dinner, he’d ordered two large cheese pizzas on the night after he’d met Shinjiro, an had been numbly munching away on those as the week went by. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Well, he supposed he should give himself </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>credit. Although he was not doing much in terms of physical movement, his mind was indeed moving very energetically. So energetically, in fact, that it was starting to give him a headache. At his desk at work, while he sat idly, he was working hard to sort the thoughts and emotions that wreaked havoc on his brain. It was the same at night, as he stared blankly at the TV and bit off a piece of cheese pizza in slow-motion. He was quite hard at work—thinking, feeling, wondering, doubting, regretting, hoping. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Had he been fully honest with himself when talking with that Shinjiro person? Did he really see a point to joining this “network” he spoke of? Well, yes, he supposed as he looked around himself, seated on the couch with a box of cold pizza. What else was he going to do to help Hyunsoo? Continue on like this? Certainly not. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And how did he feel about these people, this Shinjiro, Xiulan...and Miyoko? Yes, Miyoko. He’d come to terms with the idea that this Miyoko was a new Miyoko, one he hadn’t gotten to know yet. Because he’d been ignorant and afraid. So, how did he feel about them? Of course, he loved his sister. And Xiulan seemed like an outgoing and kind person, who was a great mediator as well as someone who had managed to gain Miyoko’s trust. He could see no problem with that. But this Shinjiro person...who did he think he was?! Walking around with swords strapped to him on all sides, with long hair in a half-ponytail as if he were some wandering ronin from centuries ago.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. What’s with that guy?” Jinichi asked one night as soon as he heard Miyoko enter the apartment, giving her no time to settle in. “Your gang leader friend. What’s his deal?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko entered the living room to see her brother in the exact position she’d seen him in the past few nights: sprawled out on the sofa, playing a drama he wasn’t watching, with an open pizza box next to him. She laughed. “He’s not a gang leader, Jin-chan. And what do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi flipped over onto his back, looking at his sister upside down. “I just mean like. Who the hell is he? Why should I trust him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Walking around him, Miyoko picked up a slice of pizza from the box. “Well, I trust him, right?” she asked him in return. “You know how much it takes for me to trust a </span>
  <em>
    <span>man</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, what’s up with that,” Jinichi wondered aloud, watching his sister eat vigorously. “Your girlfriend—she didn’t bribe you or something, right? Promise a few extra kisses if you’re nice to the guy?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko raised her arm in attack, to which Jinichi flinched and laughed. “Shut up, idiot. He’s just a good guy. Trust me, he has his...reasons. Lots of ‘em.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi narrowed his eyes, and Miyoko felt his suspicion wash over her. “Like what?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can ask him yourself,” she replied. Then, she made the gesture of zipping her mouth shut tight. “Not my reasons to explain. If he wants to tell you, he’ll tell you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tch, what are we even twin siblings for?” Jinichi joked, pushing more pizza into his mouth. “Fine, I get it. You really want me to go through with this, don’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko looked at her brother with earnest. “It’s not about what I want,” she began. “I just think it’s your best shot at helping Hyunsoo right now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mention of Hyunsoo, Jinichi fell silent. Rather than continuing to eat his slice of pizza, he simply examined it. And he nodded. “I think you’re right. Yeah. I think you’re right.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling bittersweetly, Miyoko put a hand on her brother’s leg. She patted it reassuringly. “You got this. We’re gonna find him, Jin-chan.” As it was late, she stood to get ready for bed. She gave a stretch, and looked at her brother. “Besides. No one wants to find him more than you two—you and Shinjiro. You’ll find him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At first, her words didn’t quite register. Jinichi was fixated on a bubble of cheese that had toasted to a smoldering brown, and he was picturing how it might’ve looked in the oven. But then he bolted upright, his head snapping in Miyoko’s direction as she headed to her room. “What—what do you mean? Shinjiro wants to find him? What are you saying?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the doorframe, Miyoko turned round. She grinned and made the same gesture of zipping her mouth shut tight. “Maybe you’ll find out when you talk to him tomorrow, if you’re curious enough. Goodnight, Jin-chan.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, wait—!” Jinichi began to utter, but it was too late. His sister slipped out of the room with that grin still on her face. Frustrated and confused, Jinichi turned back to his slice and took a bite, huffing as he did so. What the hell would Shinjiro want to find Hyunsoo for? He wasn’t sure if that made Jinichi want to trust him more, or less. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Groaning, he pushed more pizza into his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Clouds had formed in the sky by the following morning. By the time Shinjiro set out for the izakaya a steady downpour had developed, and he took an umbrella with him. Friday nights were always good nights to be out. Day after day, all throughout the week, he was surrounded by images of people working their absolute hardest to make ends meet, toiling through the harshest poverty just to get by. But on Friday night, the start of the weekend, everyone let loose with whatever they could. All the bars, izakayas, and clubs opened their doors wide. People split meals, bought each other drinks, and loaned a cigarette if they could. They spilled into the streets, already drunk—partly from the alcohol, partly from the euphoria of being able to forget about their burdens for just a night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro stopped in front of his usual izakaya, finding it lively and full as expected. He slid the door open and ducked inside, lowering his umbrellas. The waiting staff recognized him immediately, bowing and noting that his table was ready. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll be waiting outside for a guest,” Shinjiro informed them after thanking them. He nodded at them, and stepped back outside to wait on the curb. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In such parts of the city, there were usually no sidewalks. The rain formed shallow puddles in the bumpy, pot-holed road that lay before Shinjiro. Fortunately, though, there were usually no cars as well. Most people got by on bike or foot around here. Even a rickshaw was a more common sight than a car nowadays. Cars were simply too expensive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, lo and behold, a few minutes after Shinjiro had been waiting patiently in the rain, a car slowly turned the corner and came into view. A taxi, to be exact. Its bright headlights and shiny metal body looked so out of place. Due to the heavy foot traffic, it slowly pushed its way past people until finally coming to a stop in front of the izakaya. Shinjiro was unsurprised to see Jinichi step out of it. He moved over, holding his umbrella out to shield the other from the rain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, hello—thank you,” Jinichi said, looking up as he realized there was an umbrella being held over him. He stepped away from the taxi, and the door closed automatically behind him. Slowly, it started to drive away. For a moment, Jinichi looked around him. “All the way out here, huh? It’s really lively, though, isn’t it. Who woulda thought.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro followed his gaze. “All these people work hard during the week. Naturally, on the weekend, they all come out to play as well.” He gestured for Jinichi to head into the izakaya. “I hope it wasn’t burdensome for you to come here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nah, not really. A bit of a longer taxi ride than I anticipated, but that’s fine,” Jinichi told him, sliding the door open and stepping inside. He relished in the warmth and immediate smell of oily bar foods being cooked. “And you? I bet you live close, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Shinjiro replied, stepping out of his geta. “It’s about a forty-minute walk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh,” was all Jinichi could say. Trying not to pull a face, he slowly seated himself to remove his shoes. As soon as he was done, a waiter came and took his and Shinjiro’s shoes from them. And they were led through the restaurant, past the open tables, to the back where there were private rooms sectioned off by paper doors. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi entered their room first, seating himself at the table. Traditional-style floor seating was always a bit of a difficulty, but it was fine. Once he was seated comfortably, there were no issues. He laid his cane down next to him. Then, with wide eyes, he watched Shinjiro untie the firm obi from his waist to release the giant weapon strapped to his back, as well as the katana at his side. He did this without a word, leaning them casually against the wall. Their waiter seemed oblivious as well, as he simply set out hot tea and steamed hand towels for them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi couldn’t help but laugh. At the sound, Shinjiro looked over to him, expressionless. “Sorry,” Jinichi giggled. “But do you really carry those things with you, everywhere you go? And take them off like this each time you eat?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Retying his obi, Shinjiro peered at him. “Yes,” he replied, joining Jinichi at the table. His posture was rigid and absolutely perfect. “Is it really that silly to you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Jinichi blurted, laughing as he reached for the teapot. “Yeah, it really is. What, you think the secret police are gonna try and jump you randomly on the street?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro watched as Jinichi poured him a cup of tea. Then his eyes shifted up to look at his face. “Perhaps,” he muttered, feeling slightly embarrassed for some reason. Nonetheless, he slid the menu over to Jinichi. “Go ahead decide what you’d like.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi’s eyes dazzled as he flipped through the menu. Oh, how long it’d been since he’d gone to an izakaya! He hadn’t realized until he began to pore over the menu. “First of all, I’m getting a highball,” he said aloud to no one in particular. To himself, he supposed. “Ooh, takoyaki, simmered mackerel, chicken skewers…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Knowing the menu fully well already, Shinjiro called for a server as Jinichi was done deciding. They listed off all the plates they wanted, as well as their drinks—a highball and a bottle of warm sake.  Then the server left them alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi clasped his hands together on the table, and looked up at Shinjiro with a large smile. “Well. Hi.” He blinked rapidly a few times. “Did you find Hyunsoo yet?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Err...no,” Shinjiro said. He was caught off guard by Jinichi’s comical behavior. “I would like to ask more about him. And you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi blew an exaggerated sigh out of his cheeks. “Fine, fine. I’m gonna ask questions about you too, though. Let’s take turns.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Right,” Shinjiro said cautiously. He hoped this wouldn’t turn into an interrogation. “Hyunsoo. What can you tell me about his family?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm.” Jinichi pondered this until the door to their room slid open and a waiter appeared with their drinks. He set the rather beautiful jug of sake down, along with a matching cup, and a standard glass mug filled with a bubbling highball. Jinichi snatched up his drink, waiting eagerly for Shinjiro to pour his sake, and clinked their cups together in cheers. He took a deep, refreshing gulp. “Ahh. Really poor.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon?” Shinjiro asked, just after downing some sake. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hyunsoo’s family was really poor,” Jinichi elaborated. “They lived in an area not too different from this, but worse. A real slum, I guess. He was embarrassed of where he lived, so I only saw his house once. I mean, yeah it was a total shack, but it’s not embarrassing. It was hard out here for them.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro nodded. Seemed to be in line with everyone else who’d been kidnapped. Human, poor, living in the slums. “How did they get by?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“His dad was a blacksmith, and was training Hyunsoo to take over, actually.” Jinichi’s eyes floated to the side as he recalled certain memories. “But Hyunsoo had told me that business wasn’t great. They usually made things like tools and building materials, but his dad had started taking jobs making weapons. Like, in secret. They just needed the money that bad.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, Shinjiro nodded. Another family who’d fallen upon rough times. It couldn’t be easy. He wondered if the kidnappings targeted humans who were dealing with extra stress—humans who were even more vulnerable. He hated the thought. “I notice...Hyunsoo, his name is not Japanese.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mn, that’s right,” Jinichi realized, swallowing a mouthful of his drink. It was already a quarter gone. “His family was Korean. But I mean, barely. Both his parents were born and raised in Japan, and were totally fluent and all of that. Hyunsoo barely even knew any Korean, actually, because his parents wanted him to fit in with Japanese society. But they still got shit because of it. It sucked, really.” Jinichi chewed his lip in thought. “Yeah. I think his parents were really embarrassed to be Korean, but not Hyunsoo. He was a bit more proud of it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So he was a minority,” Shinjiro observed. “And not a very liked one, at that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi eyed him. “You think that has something to do with why they took him?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their conversation was interrupted by the door opening once again, This time, two servers ushered themselves in, each holding trays of food. They set down all the individual plates onto the table. Jinichi’s eyes glittered at the sight of them. He quickly took his chopsticks, not even waiting for the waiters to finish before plucking a slice of fishcake from one of the plates. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it may, yes,” Shinjiro resumed once the waiters had left. He picked a handful of items to put on his own plate. “Consider this: the best target is one who no one will go looking for.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey! What’re you saying?!” Jinichi interjected, glaring at him. “I’m looking for him! So is his family, and all their friends!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know that,” Shinjiro replied calmly. “I meant institutionally. Forgive me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi huffed, but settled down nonetheless. He gnawed a piece of chicken off a skewer. “What do you mean, ‘institutionally?’” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“When one goes missing, it gets reported to police, correct?” Shinjiro began. “Say the person missing is a high-profile sage, maybe a bureaucrat. Rich, well-known, respected. If the case is such, the report will reach the top rungs of law enforcement, and everyone will be searching. However, in Hyunsoo’s case…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Since no one gives a shit about him, no one’s gonna take the report seriously,” Jinichi finished for him. “No one’s gonna realize that he’s gone, and no one’s gonna look. No one’s gonna ask about it, either.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro looked at him gravely. He nodded. “In the rare case that someone </span>
  <em>
    <span>does </span>
  </em>
  <span>ask, they will blame it on a number of things—children of poor families often run away, Koreans join gangs and commit crimes, and so on. No one will bat an eye.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi understood what he meant. They absolutely did not have the support of the police, or the rest of the Republic, at their backs. This was something they’d have to do from the ground up. That made the whole thing seem terrifyingly difficult. “So that’s why you think the Republic is behind this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well...what if it’s someone taking advantage of that mindset?” Jinichi criticized. “Like a gang. I know there’s tons around here. What if one of these vicious gang leaders is kidnapping people because they think they won’t be suspected? And they’re making the Republic their scapegoat.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since Jinichi had first met him, Shinjiro laughed. A hearty, open-mouthed laugh of amusement. Jinichi initially wanted to scowl, but quickly found that he couldn’t. For some reason, the sound of Shinjiro laughing was refreshing. And in a strange way, reassuring. “Trust me,” he began, laughter still in his voice. “No one is capable of making the Republic their scapegoat. I would applaud the individual who could.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, Jinichi scrunched up his face. “Okay, fine. They can’t blame the Republic. But who says they aren’t the ones doing the kidnapping, anyway?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They don’t have to,” Shinjiro responded simply, though still smiling. ‘They cause trouble in other ways.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, as I’m sure you’d know,” Jinichi sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I would, actually.” Shinjiro held Jinichi’s gaze directly. The bout of laughter seemed to bring some warmth to his eyes. “I’m very good friends with a few gang leaders.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“HA!” Jinichi exclaimed, pointing his finger. “I </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>it! I knew you were a gang leader!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? I’m not,” Shinjiro said, surprised by the finger in his face. “I just told you. I’m very good friends with a few.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who else would be good friends with gang leaders aside from other gang leaders?” Jinichi asked, not convinced. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, my. You’re quite ignorant, Jinichi.” Shinjiro waved the accusatory finger out of his face. “Who else would be friends with a dirt-poor Korean blacksmith, aside from other dirt-poor Korean blacksmiths?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi glared at him, speechless, before finally retracting his finger and hiding his hand under the table. “Hint taken,” he murmured, shoving a cube of potato into his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmm. Besides,” Shinjiro went on, “a lot of them say that they’ve had members kidnapped. Dare I say they’re as panicked as we are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Letting this information sink in, Jinichi was silent for a while. Shinjiro followed suit, finding the silence oddly contemplative. He came to realize that Jinichi was perhaps a bit ignorant and held views that opposed his own, but he was by no means dumb. It was clear that Jinichi was handling this information very seriously, even though some of it was shocking or conflicting to him. That, Shinjiro admitted to himself, was far better than someone who blindly followed his words without a second thought. He smiled pleasantly behind his sake cup, having another drink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here,” Jinichi finally said after a while, holding up a chicken skewer. “I ate all the other ones already. You haven’t had one yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d hardly noticed, but he was grateful all the same. “Thank you,” he said, taking the skewer. He glanced back at Jinichi, whose head was still bowed in thought as he picked through the dishes on the table. He pursed his lips, wondering if this was the right moment to ask a critical question that had been on his mind for a while now. “Jinichi. May I ask you something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mn.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you a sage of strength, like your sister?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the question, Jinichi looked up. Shinjiro had no discernable expression on his face except a mild curiosity, sitting with perfect posture and holding the chicken skewer. After a moment, Jinichi re-focused his gaze on the food. “No,” he answered, taking some noodles. “No, I’m not. I’m a sage of flora.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, some things began to make sense. Sages of strength were known for their large populations in the north and inland areas, where their strength was valuable in working the tough, raw land for development and farming. While not too common throughout all of Japan, their numbers in the north were definitely substantial. In the traditional sage caste system, they were regarded as middle-class. Sages of flora, however, were numerous throughout the land, and throughout the world. They were the “commoners” of sage society. As their name would imply, they had the ability to cause growth—and decay—in all types of plants. Throughout history, they’ve been clustered into agricultural communities. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another important realization that Miyoko and Jinichi, though siblings, did not wield the same magic. This was most definitely a sign of their class status, as inter-magic families were unheard of in the upper classes of sage society. These two siblings must have come from some fairly rural area up in the northern parts of the country. Hm. Shinjiro </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>he hadn’t been mistaken in hearing the two slip in some northern dialect when they spoke. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I see,” Shinjiro remarked, feeling oddly humbled by the pair of siblings suddenly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah yeah, I’m a country bumpkin,” Jinichi grumbled, downing the rest of his drink. “You gonna make fun of me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro bit off a piece of chicken from the skewer, and frowned. “I realize we are still barely acquainted, but do you really presume I would do such a thing?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Guess not,” Jinichi admitted, flicking him a look. He reached over to press a button that called for their server. “Well, good! You’d better not. I’m college-educated and run my own business now. Miyoko, too. That’s a country bumpkin for ya. If anyone makes fun of us, Miyoko will beat ‘em up and I’ll make potatoes sprout inside their ears.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro smiled widely. What a comical pair. “I believe it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Their server re-entered their room, and Jinichi ordered another highball. Shinjiro, too, asked for a second round of his sake. They also ordered seaweed-salted french fries and vegetable tempura. Jinichi flicked his chopsticks in Shinjiro’s direction. “And you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If you really must know,” Shinjiro began, sighing. He looked at Jinichi directly and said frankly, “Fire.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooh, now </span>
  <em>
    <span>this </span>
  </em>
  <span>is interesting,” Jinichi mused, folding his arms and grinning mischievously. “A sage of fire, you say? Now, what’s an elite nobleman like yourself doing in some slum in the capitol? Getting greasy izakaya food with a hick like me?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smirking, Shinjiro shook his head. “Long story.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do your parents know?” Jinichi went on, entertained. “Or the family servants—do they know what you’re up to? They must wonder where all the family savings are going, weekend after weekend. Oh wait—I’ll bet they have so much money that they hardly notice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro eyed him, also amused. “You’ve heard many stories, I see.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi shrugged unapologetically. “What can I say? Country folk only hear myths about that kind of lifestyle. It’s more interesting if we exaggerate the details.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It isn’t that far off from the truth,” Shinjiro admitted, reaching for one of the fries. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi watched him pick up a single french fry, with chopsticks. “Clearly!” he scoffed. Then he reached forth himself, grabbing a fistful of fries with his bare hand. “You just grab ‘em like this, then lick all the extra seasoning off your fingers when you’re done.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm.” Shinjiro hummed, observing. “I’ll pass.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Paying him no mind, Jinichi continued to eat with his hands. He also took another swig of his drink, and Shinjiro noticed the pink that tinted his cheeks. “Hey. I got a question for ya. Miyoko told me that you wanna find Hyunsoo really bad.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro cocked his head, curious. “I do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no, she said...</span>
  <em>
    <span>no one wants to find him more than us two</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jinichi clarified, looking at the other critically. “And she said you’d tell me what that means.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding, Shinjiro smiled to himself. “Ah, yes. I had mentioned that to her, hadn’t I. Well...it is a number of factors. Mainly, I believe Hyunsoo will be the first one who is found.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi bolted upright. “What do you mean—why do you think that? You know something, huh?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know something, yes.” Shinjiro began, his voice suddenly becoming grave. He held Jinichi’s gaze with as much honesty as he could, despite the other’s drunken, desperate eyes. “I know that everyone is frightened—in fact, they are paralyzed with fear. They cannot move. They cannot act. They fear that if they do anything drastic to save their loved ones, they might be targeted next. Around here, life must go on. There is money to make, bills to pay, people to feed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It is not that they are apathetic. It is very much the opposite. Rather, the issue lies in whether they can afford to search for those who have been kidnapped. These people can stand and shout at the Republic all they want. No one will hear them, and their voices will simply grow hoarse. Why waste their time and energy? Even if they do get heard, they will be heard as noise and not as people. And the Republic will silence that noise. In essence, there is nothing that these people can do. And they are all aware of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You, however...a rare find. A sage, looking for a lost human? You have a voice that will be heard by the Republic, if you choose to use it. You have the means to pause your life and search for Hyunsoo. You have a status that could make such a search worthwhile. And finding Hyunsoo means finding the rest.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Shinjiro’s explanation went on, Jinichi’s face grew increasingly somber and he finished his drink. It wasn’t the answer he wanted, but it was the one he should have expected. He wiped his mouth with his arm, and again pressed the button to call for a server. He ordered another drink, folded his hands together on the table, and looked at Shinjiro. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just who the hell </span>
  <em>
    <span>are </span>
  </em>
  <span>you?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro pressed his lips together, looking down as he smoothed out his robe. “I wish to help the less fortunate. That is all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s all </span>
  <em>
    <span>my ass</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Jinichi snorted. “Fine, fine, whatever, Captain mysterious over here. Well, I guess I’ve got to join your little club, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro watched him attack his third drink. “You’re certain?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Look, you did a great job at spelling it all out for me,” Jinichi explained, using exaggerated hand motions. “I don’t really have any other choice, do I? You made that pretty clear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Humbly, Shinjiro bowed his head a bit. “I’m sorry that I’ve angered you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This took Jinichi by surprise. He put his drink down, peering across the table at the bowing Shinjiro. “Hey, cut that out,” Jinichi said, gentler now. “You didn’t make me angry. I’m just angry that this is all happening in the first place. And...it’s true that I’ve got no other choice. But I think this is a pretty damn good choice to make, anyway.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Shinjiro’s surprise, Jinichi raised his mug towards him in cheers. Their drinks clinked together, and both were able to smile a little. “Welcome to...the club,” Shinjiro said, trying out Jinichi’s phrase. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wanting to enjoy their dinner on good terms, Jinichi wasted no more time in finishing his drink as well as the last round of food they had ordered. Shinjiro pitched in as well, nothing how ravenously Jinichi seemed to eat. He wondered what a dinner with both Ito siblings would be like. Chaotic, he was sure. The idea humored and worried him at the same time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahh, gochisōsama!” Jinichi exclaimed, giving a stretch. “What a good spot. Real tasty.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small smile appeared on Shinjiro’s face. “Glad you enjoyed it.” He stood and smoothed his robes. “I’m going to use the restroom and pay the bill. Excuse me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually—I wanna go outside and look around a little,” Jinichi mentioned, grabbing his cane. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro paused, then came over to his side. He extended his arm. “May I help you up..?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Eyeing him, Jinichi grabbed hold of his arm with a mixture of a grin and a grimace on his face. “Only because I’m drunk,” he clarified. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course,” Shinjiro replied humbly. He pulled Jinichi up to his feet, and held him steady for a moment as he swayed. Then Jinichi let go, and Shinjiro put his arm back at his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once he’d slipped his shoes back on, Jinichi headed out of the izakaya. It was still raining, but not nearly as badly as it had been when he’d first arrived. Additionally, most of the storefronts had overhangs that protected pedestrians from the rain. Jinichi curiously rounded the corner, heading down a small alley that was lit with neon signs and paper lanterns. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was noisy, crowded, and a bit dirty, but in a way still comfortable. The scents of many different cuisines wafted through the air, and laughter spilled out of all the doors and windows. Rain came down in patches where there were no overhangs, but no one seemed to mind. They simply put a hand above their head to shield themselves, and went on their merry way along with their friends. Jinichi stood aside on a curb in front of a back alley, watching the lively scene before him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a shame that he and Hyunsoo never had nights out like this. And it was entirely Jinichi’s fault—he knew that full well. How many times had he offhandedly mentioned that he didn’t want to be caught in a sketchy, dangerous place like this at night? Oh, how sheltered he was. Now that he was amidst the night scene, he could surely envision himself and Hyunsoo having a fun night out here. What a waste. Because of Jinichi’s own ignorance, they’d only ever hung out in the more sterile, affluent areas. Not to say that those weren’t fun times, but...they had indeed missed many opportunities by skipping out on places like this. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Jinichi noticed someone watching him. From the outfit that the person was wearing, Jinichi identified him as a member of the sage police. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Oh, good to know that they have someone on patrol out here</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thought to himself. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to make eye contact with the policeman. Rather, he averted his eyes and felt strangely uncomfortable, for reasons he couldn’t quite identify. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite his best efforts to ignore the officer, Jinichi noticed him approaching. He grew closer. Then, they stood in the small back alley together. Jinichi glanced at the officer. “Um, hello, sir.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello,” the officer replied, smiling and seeming friendly by all means. Jinichi had no idea why his nerves were so on edge. “Are you all alone out here?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi blinked. “Erm, no, I’m waiting on someone, some guy, uh.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The officer stepped in closer to him, and Jinichi realized how overbearing he was. He was tall, broad, and had a brutish snarl on his face. “Oh yeah? This guy, is he another crippled faggot like you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi’s eyes shot open in shock, and his brows furrowed angrily. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span> did you just call—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up,” the policeman growled, shoving a clammy hand over Jinichi’s mouth.  “Just shut up. You humans disgust me.” </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What</span>
  </em>
  <span>! Jinichi thought, his eyes widening like mad. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I’m not a human!</span>
  </em>
  <span> He scrambled to retrieve his ID card, but suddenly gasped as the wind was knocked out of his lungs by a fierce punch to the gut. He reeled back in shock and sank to the ground, his legs collapsing under him. His cane skittered across the ground and he coughed, trying desperately to catch his breath. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Especially ones like you.” The policeman kneeled down in front of Jinichi, and grabbed his face tightly in his grubby hand. Jinichi winced, all while still gasping and trying to pick himself up. “A fuckin’ cripple. Tch. Are you kidding me? Going out with no shame, looking like a fucking fairy. Disgusting. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“S-Stop, what...are you…” Jinichi breathed, his voice slipping out of his mouth like dried-up whispers. His vision was going blurry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The policeman grabbed his face again, jerking it upwards. “I said shut up.” There was a sudden metallic sound, and Jinichi realized in horror that it was the sound of a belt coming undone. He watched as the officer began to undo his pants. His whole body felt numb, but he faintly registered the sensation of his body being moved into a position. His eyes were hot, moist with anger and shame, yet he was frozen. He stared at the badge on the officer’s lapel. “I’ll teach you what happens to little shits like you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro payed with a small stack of bills and told the waiter, as always, to keep the change. He stepped into his geta and retrieved his umbrella, then went out into the street. Curiously, he found that Jinichi was nowhere to be seen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He must still be wandering,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he thought to himself. Deciding that he wouldn’t mind a stroll himself, he set off at a casual pace to try and find the misplaced Jinichi. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He walked down the neighboring alley, which he knew to be frequently busy on Friday nights. It seemed like a fun place that might interest Jinichi. Yet, he found no trace of him. Shinjiro even peered into a few windows, hoping to catch a glimpse of mint green hair. But there was no such sight. Mystified, Shinjiro decided to make his way back to the izakaya to wait out front. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was upon making his way back when he saw it: the faint glimmer of a silver rod, a few feet into a back alley. He stopped and turned to look. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A horrifying scene lay before him. Jinichi lay on the ground, on his stomach. A man was hunched over him, pinning his hands behind his back and trying to push his face onto the wet asphalt. In the darkness of the alley, it was hard to see much detail, but Shinjiro quickly identified the man’s clothing as a police uniform. He also noted that the officer’s pants were undone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Furious, Shinjiro bolted into the alley. He was about to withdraw one of his katana and charge ahead when the officer began to scream. Shinjiro skidded to a stop as he watched what began to happen. The officer removed his hands from Jinichi, bringing them slowly up to his face. He was transfixed on them. As Shinjiro watched, he understood why. The officer’s hands, as well as his face, began to wrinkle. They grew pale. Large, bulbous veins pulsated around his knuckles and his eyes. His skin went from wrinkly to sagging, collapsing in folds and appearing as though it would fall off at any moment. His eyes grew to a pale gray and bugged out of his skull. His entire body seemed to shrink. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The officer was aging before their very eyes. Not just aging—he was dying. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro pulled his gaze away from the man to rush over to Jinichi. He kneeled next to him, pulling him up off the ground. Jinichi’s jaw was clenched and he was seething, his face warm and wet with furious tears. His eyes looked panicked. He glared at the officer, watching him fall to the ground, twitching. As he lay there, he drew raspy, haggard breaths like a fish out of water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jinichi,” Shinjiro breathed, taking him into his arms and scanning his body for injury. “Jinichi, are you alright?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll…” Jinichi hissed, trembling as he spoke. “I’ll teach you…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro gasped as Jinichi went limp, passing out in his arms. He shook him gently, but there was no response. He glanced over at the officer, who had stopped moving. From the angle he was at, he couldn’t see the officer’s face—only his ghostly-white, sagging fingers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced back at Jinichi, trying to comprehend what he just witnessed. Quickly and wordlessly, he stood. He held Jinichi against his chest, leaning him over his shoulder, and kept him there with one hand. With his other hand, he dragged the officer’s body deeper into the back alley until they were behind a large dumpster. Then, he murmured an incantation and lit the body on fire. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On his way out, he stooped down to pick up Jinichi’s cane. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sage of flora</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Jinichi had told him just an hour ago. Sage of flora, indeed. With Jinichi in his arms, he called for a rickshaw and hurried home.  </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. First Arc: Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Saiga Ryuuji sat on his knees, facing tall windows that stretched from floor to ceiling. Mid-afternoon shone brightly outside the glass, washing over the city that lay before him. From this high up on the Hill, the view was spectacular. Steel towers glistened. In the distance, the ocean spread out in a light blue line, mirroring the clear sky above it. Helicopters bobbed through the sky, occasionally flashing like a light as their blades caught the reflection from the sun. The colorful, clean signs of business and bureaucracy posted on buildings helped block out the sight of the grimy, gray slums that hid underneath the city’s beautiful inner district. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Feeling relaxed by the beautiful weather, he calmly reached over to the pen and paper that lay next to him. In careful handwriting, he jotted down a few notes. And he set the pen and paper back down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This was his meditation room. Like every Sage of Empathy, he spent much time meditating to focus his thoughts and feelings. He was lucky enough to have a meditation room attached to his office, right where he could reach it any time of the day. There was a cushion that he kneeled on, embroidered with fine silk. The floor underneath was tightly woven tatami. There was a low table, carved from oak, with a plain tea set and a beautifully kept cherry blossom bonsai. Its leaves were beginning to yellow with the onset of autumn. Aside from these things, the only other thing was the view through the tall windows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At that moment, Ryuuji sensed an anxious presence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You may come in.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The paper door slid open softly, and his receptionist timidly stepped in. She bowed deeply, even though Ryuuji’s back was facing her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sir, I’m very sorry to have disturbed you,” she began, her voice quiet and gentle. She remained bowed. “I’ve just been informed that today’s trial sentencing has been moved forward one hour.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryuuji stood up from his cushion and turned to face his receptionist. He lifted his arm and pulled back his sleeve, looking at his watch. “That would mean it’s staring in about thirty minutes, wouldn’t it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes sir,” his receptionist replied hastily, sounding pained. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Miss Hiromi, do you sense any anger from me?” Ryuuji stepped towards her, offering a calm grin. “No need to be so tense. These things happen. Please call a driver for me, if you don’t mind.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his reassurance, Hiromi straightened up. She offered an apologetic smile and tucked a lock of shining silver hair behind her ear. “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She quickly left the meditation room, sliding the door shut as gently as she had opened it. Ryuuji, alone once more, gave a hearty stretch and pulled his arms high above his head. It was too bad that he couldn’t have come to a proper end to his meditation today. Ah, well. As he had just said: these things happen. Deciding not to linger on it, he drew the curtains for the impressive windows. He grabbed his pen and paper and left the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His suit was hanging near his desk in the neighboring office room. He shed his meditation clothes—a soft, light pink jinbei wove from fine silk—and put his suit back on. He readied his briefcase with all the files and folders he had set aside for today’s sentencing. Finally, for some finishing touches, he combed his hair and misted his face with a bottle containing a skincare elixir engineered specifically for his skin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As he left his office to head down to street level, his employees stood to bow and wish him a good evening as he passed by. He was bid farewell in the lobby as well, by the front desk receptionist and lobby staff. The car and his driver were waiting at the curb, and the door to the luxurious European car was opened for him as he approached. During the ride to the courthouse, he took one of the glass bottles of seltzer water that was resting in a refrigerator compartment in the backseat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In a matter of minutes, the car pulled up to the National Executive Courthouse. Although Ryuuji saw it on a weekly basis, it never ceased to amaze him with its beauty. Built in the style of great Greek and Roman courts, it had dazzling white columns of marble that held up an angular roof, hanging over a wide platform of marble steps that cascaded down to street level. A large fountain sat at the base of the steps, spouting crystal clear water into the air in beautiful liquid ribbons. Pairs of pure white doves—not those dirty, muddled looking pigeons you saw in human areas of the city—sat along the stone rim of the fountain.   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryuuji thanked his driver, who held the door open for him. His polished wingtip loafer stepped onto the spotless sidewalk, shining in the strong afternoon sunlight. Taking a deep inhale of the crisp air, he made his way past the fountain, up the steps, and into the courthouse. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Inside, he was met with many familiar faces. Everyone bowed warmly to each other, making their way into the courtroom after exchanging greetings and formalities. Ryuuji followed the crowd, heading to his designated seat on an elevated stand at the left side of the courtroom. The seat next to his was designated for the Chief of Police, who had just seated himself. Ryuuji smiled at his friend as he came up to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked, setting his briefcase down. “Strange that a dull case like this got moved forward an hour, eh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isamu chuckled, removing his taut leather gloves. “It’s a Friday—I’m sure the judges made the motion so they could start drinking earlier.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryuuji laughed as well. “No doubt, now that you mention it.” He unbuttoned his suit jacket before taking a seat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“On that note, Tomoe and I have reservations at </span>
  <em>
    <span>L’étoile </span>
  </em>
  <span>tonight. Why don’t you come along?” Isamu asked. The eyes behind his ice-blue contacts shined. “Today’s the first day of their autumn menu.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, </span>
  <em>
    <span>L’étoile, </span>
  </em>
  <span>you say?” Ryuuji repeated, his interest piqued. “I haven’t been there for some time now. You’re sure you won’t mind?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isamu gave him a look. “Of course not. You know Tomoe and I always want you to come along.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, in that case, how can I refuse?” Ryuuji responded with an amused shrug. “I’m sure I’ll have worked up an appetite after these shenanigans.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After chatting for a few more minutes, the courtroom settled down upon hearing the unmistakable sound of a gavel slamming down. The judge began to take her seat, and the convict was led to his seat by two Sage officers, done up in handcuffs and a gray jumpsuit. A few members of the courtroom coughed and sniffled as he sat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As decided by the jury yesterday, the defendant was found guilty of armed robbery against a Sage citizen, first degree assault against a Sage citizen, and harassment against a Sage citizen. The judge consulted the papers before her. Going along with standard procedure, the suggested sentencing for these crimes were as follows: removal of both hands—without anesthesia, removal of the tongue and vocal cords, and life imprisonment. Due to the nature of the crimes committed, the judge finds this sentence to be fair and to uphold justice for those that suffered at the hands of the defendant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does the defendant have any final comments?” the judge asked, her expression appearing bored. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The convict clearly had some papers in his hand, something he had planned to read. But from where Ryuuji and Isamu sat, it was easy to see how badly he was trembling. As Ryuuji looked more closely, he saw that the man’s mouth was moving and his face was wet with tears. Mumbling and sobbing like a madman. Ryuuji rubbed his chin at the sight. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Without any objections or interruptions, the sentencing was carried out swiftly. Isamu and Ryuuji watched with jaded eyes as the convict was led out of the courtroom in a mess of sobs and trembling limbs. His hands were clasped together and he bowed incessantly, apparently trying to pay. As he was finally out the doors, Isamu seemed to smirk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Piece of shit,” he muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a shame,” Ryuuji agreed, gathering his briefcase. “Our beautiful courthouse has to be dirted by the presence of such filth. Ha! The audacity. Don’t they realize how privileged they are to even step foot into the inner capitol?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isamu shook his head regrettably. His expression was riddled with disgust. “Just worms, the lot of ‘em.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And to think he didn’t actually commit the crime,” Ryuuji murmured, clucking his tongue in disagreement. “He should thank the lovely woman who accused him. If it weren’t for her, he’d have never gotten the opportunity to come here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isamu grimaced in agreement. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The two of them gathered up their things and made their way to the judge. In everyone’s lazy Friday afternoon stupor, they had to navigate the bureaucrats wandering about. They set out their documents, getting things in order, and making sure to get copies of all records to file away. Signatures were scrawled. Hanko were stamped. Bows were exchanged. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The reservation is for 19:00,” Isamu said as he and Ryuuji exited the courthouse together. “Is that enough time for you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Plenty,” Ryuuji assured his friend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They said goodbye and went their separate ways, each ducking into sleek black cars being held open by their respective drivers. Ryuuji found himself parched after that total bore of a sentencing trial and quickly opened another bottle of seltzer water. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The building that he lived in was situated on a pleasant corner, with a decent stretch of privacy around all edges in the form of a well-kept garden. On the ground floor, in addition to the entrance lobby, there was a West wing that housed a cafe, and an East wing which belonged to a fine restaurant. A crystal chandelier hung in the center of the tiled lobby, above the fountain. As Ryuuji passed, he smiled down at the colorful koi that swam underneath the gently rolling waves. The staff at reception greeted him with warmth. He entered the elevator with a sigh of contentment, pressing the button for the 50th floor—the top floor. Although all the floors had twenty units each, the top three floors were an exception. Ryuuji’s floor only had five units. The two floors below each had ten. A plush carpet lined the hall which he exited the elevator on. It was cool and quiet, and smelled faintly of geranium. No doubt that the cleaning service had just come through, on time with his personal schedule as always. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryuuji scanned his palm to unlock the door to his apartment. The mechanized padlock greeted him in a kind, digital voice. Upon entering, he was met with strong afternoon sunlight that poured through his windows, lighting everything up in a golden orange. Ah, the days were certainly growing shorter. He removed his shoes and bypassed his spacious kitchen and living room, heading straight to his office. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At his desk, he opened his briefcase and removed the pad of paper he had been using in his meditation room earlier. Adjusting his glasses, he carefully read over the notes he had made. In the meantime, he started up his computer. Feeling satisfied with what he had produced, he leaned back in his chair and hummed as he watched his computer’s startup screen. After a few moments, he was able to open up his files and copy down his notes, storing them away digitally so he could easily come back to them whenever he pleased. He would have to email some of them to his associates at the lab as well. But perhaps a bit later. For now, he should start getting ready for dinner. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In his bathroom, he started up the steam shower and began to undress. He put on his robe instead, a thick garment spun from merino wool. He hung his work attire in his closet, walking all the way to the back wall where he kept the rest of his work attire. By the time he finished and left his closet, the steam shower was ready. Like always, he had a vial of bamboo and jasmine tea oil set for use in the steamer shower, and as he derobed and entered, the delicate scent surrounded him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He sat on the white granite bench in the shower and closed his eyes, making sure his sensing pathways were clear. A bit of his own excitement was clogging up an area at the base of his neck, and he couldn’t help but smile to himself. By some strange circumstance, today had turned out to be an oddly fine day. Normally, he’d take this time to clear out that excitement of his, but today, he decided that he could allow it to linger. After all, the rest of the night would be spent with friends at dinner, and his pathways didn’t need to be crystal clear for that anyway. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got out of the steam shower after several minutes, feeling inexplicably refreshed. He patted the extra moisture off his skin with a clean towel, put his robe on once more, and got to grooming. He pampered his skin with the products he used each day, all of which were custom made for his complexion. As was prescribed to him by his aesthetician, he massaged the products into his skin with a jade roller. Observing his reflection, he noticed a certain redness to his cheeks, and his chin appeared slightly more pigmented than the rest of his face. Maybe he was overreacting. But then again, it didn’t hurt to take a trip to the spa and get a nice facial done. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After getting well-groomed, he went into his closet to pick out an outfit. For dining at </span>
  <em>
    <span>L’étoile, </span>
  </em>
  <span>something classy was in order. The natural choice was a cashmere sweater, but in which color? A warm gray, close to tan, might be nice. He paired it with a silk neckerchief, one he adored from his favorite designer. He pulled a coat on, trousers, fixed a belt to his waist, and headed out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before calling a driver, Ryuuji stopped in at the restaurant in the lobby. The host at the door, recognizing him, smiled and bowed deeply. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good evening, Mr. Saiga,” he greeted. “ Will you be dining tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Actually, is Chef Inoue in at the moment? I’d like to purchase some alcohol,” Ryuuji replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” The host bowed again. “Right this way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryuuji trailed behind the host, led through the restaurant dining floor and straight through to the kitchen. In the kitchen, off to the side, was an office room with an open door. Sorting through some papers was the chef. The host knocked to get his attention, then bowed and introduced Ryuuji’s arrival before dismissing himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Mr. Saiga—!” Chef Inoue exclaimed, putting his papers. He hurried over and offered a pleasant bow. “It’s been a while, eh? Here to buy a bottle of something, I assume?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You assume correct,” Ryuuji said with a smile. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right this way, then,” Chef Inoue said, leading the way through the kitchen and into a chilled storage room. “What kind of brew are you looking for tonight?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something a bit casual, perhaps,” Ryuuji answered, following the chef into the room. His eyes washed over the shelves lined with various types of alcohol. “Maybe a champagne.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Very good,” the chef said, beaming. He walked up to one of the shelves, scanning the bottles and vials. “This month, we’ve got a lovely bottle, a </span>
  <em>
    <span>cuvée de prestige</span>
  </em>
  <span>, direct from a private vineyard in Champagne. It’s a blend, aged since the year 1895. The bottle is a hand-cut crystal vase. There are only thirty bottles in distribution throughout the globe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Chef Inoue carefully removed the bottle from its wooden engraved box, Ryuuji leaned over to take a look. He peered at the bottle, stroking his chin. It was nice indeed. “Quite beautiful,” he observed, to which the chef nodded humbly in agreement. “However, I feel it’s a bit too extravagant for tonight’s occasion. After all, it’s only dinner with good friends. Perhaps something just secondary to this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Chef Inoue nodded in understanding. As carefully as he had removed the bottle, he returned it to its box and set it back on the shelf. “The next best thing I have is another fine </span>
  <em>
    <span>cuvée de prestige, </span>
  </em>
  <span>from a wonderful vineyard we’ve bought from before. It was a recipe only used once, for this very batch, of which I believe produced two hundred bottles. The batch is aged from the year 1920. The bottle itself is not hand-cut, but is still crystal.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryuuji examined this bottle, which Chef Inoue had slid out of a velvet satchel that was embroidered with the vineyard’s name. He felt he recognized it—he must have bought one of their bottles in the past. The color of the champagne was an elegant, pale gold color. It seemed decent enough. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s go with this, then,” Ryuuji decided with a nod. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excellent choice.” The chef bowed respectfully, tying the bottle’s velvet satchel closed. “I’ll have one of the hosts prepare a gift wrap for you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryuuji followed Chef Inoue back out into the kitchen, and from there out to the dining floor. Alongside the bar was a register and an idle hostess, who the chef promptly handed the satchel to with instructions to prepare it as a gift. Then the chef himself slid behind the counter to tap some buttons on the register. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That will be  $9,400, Mr. Saiga.” The chef bowed slightly as he listed the price. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Indifferent, Ryuuji pulled out his wallet and handed over one of his credit cards. With great care, the chef took it from him, slid it through the reader, and bowed as he handed it back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They exchanged a brief conversation of kind words just before the hostess came back with a giftbag in her hands. Washi tissue paper filled the bag and topped the bag with a tuft. Ryuuji thanked her, thanked the chef once more, and departed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With assistance from lobby reception, Ryuuji called for a driver and was soon on his way to </span>
  <em>
    <span>L’étoile.</span>
  </em>
  <span> The French gourmet restaurant was situated on top of a hill that overlooked a park and garden on the outskirts of the busy skyscraper district. It was fully booked every night. Ryuuji checked his watch as his car pulled up to the front of </span>
  <em>
    <span>L’étoile.</span>
  </em>
  <span> It was ten ‘til seven—perfect, just as he had planned.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He entered the restaurant, informed the host that he was here with the party of Aohoshi Isamu, and followed behind as he was led through the dining room. He found Isamu, sitting at a somewhat isolated table in the corner of two windows, with his fiancee, Tomoe. Ryuuji thanked the host that guided him here, and then greeted his friends. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” Ryuuji commented, after giving each of them a hug. As he pulled a chair out, he placed the gift bag on the table. “Here’s a small token of thanks to you both for inviting me tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you didn’t need to do that,” Isamu said with an amused smile. Nonetheless, he took the gift bag from the table and nodded at him. “Thanks, Ryuuji.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you,” Tomoe signed, moving her hands in a friendly gesture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Smiling, Ryuuji signed back, “No problem.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryuuji didn’t know very much Japanese Sign Language—in fact, he didn’t know much at all. Isamu and Tomoe had taught him some basic phrases, but his knowledge didn’t extend past that. It was quite a different language from spoken Japanese, and he even struggled to remember what little he’d learned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Ryuuji could understand why Isamu had gone through the lengths of learning the language to fluency. His fiancee, Ishikawa Tomoe, was unquestionably beautiful and intelligent. Her hair was dyed a light, honey blonde and was always smooth and silky. She almost always wore green contacts, though some days she opted for hazel or gold. She was slightly taller than the average woman, but her slender and grace were certainly unmatched. She had started out at the Department of Law Enforcement around the same time Isamu had. And, well, the rest was history. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A waiter quickly brought them menus, as well as sets of cutlery and glasses for water and wine. Just as Isamu had mentioned earlier, their autumn menu was curated with special seasonal ingredients, such as various mushrooms, gourds, and mountain vegetables. Ryuuji decided that the seared wild boar sounded particularly good this evening. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How did the sentencing go?” Tomoe signed, looking between the two men. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small, knowing smile spread across Isamu’s face and he scratched his temple. “Mn. The sentencing…” He turned to Ryuuji. “How would you sum it up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryuuji lifted his brows and took a sip of the water that had just been poured into his glass. “Unremarkable,” he laughed. “And time consuming. As usual.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isamu snorted in agreement. He quickly signed some hand gestures, to which Tomoe pulled a frown. She reached over to put a hand on Isamu’s shoulder. “You boys work too hard. You both seem tired,” she signed. “Especially after what was reported today…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isamu, too, seemed to pull a slight frown. Ryuuji watched, unable to decipher the words passed between them. But he was immediately able to pick up on their outflow of stress. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Noting Ryuuji’s concerned gaze, Isamu figured his empath abilities were picking up on something. He turned to his friend and sighed. “Today, a report came in…” he began. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a pause. “Something new about the Akuma Shogun,” Ryuuji said calmly, finishing Isamu’s sentence. He had sensed the words ringing around his friend’s head. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isamu nodded. “Yeah. Earlier this week, multiple instances of vandalism were found throughout some of the human district slums. Spraypaint of various propaganda—rise of the Akuma Shogun, Akuma Shogun has returned—that sort of thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ryuuji drummed his fingers on the globe of his glass. “Perhaps it’s time that Investigations started a task force for this.” He felt the stress of his friends stir, but not vanish. He glanced at Isamu. “Does the Army General know about any of this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Isamu stared blankly at his cutlery for a moment. Then, he briskly shook his head. “No. My father remains uninformed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sullen stupor that had come over the table was broken as two waiters arrived, one with a bottle of wine and another with an appetizer. Ryuuji offered a smile as he reached for his glass, holding it up for a toast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, let’s drop this matter for now, shall we?” he suggested. “Let’s have a toast and enjoy dinner.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To that, Isamu and Tomoe raised their glasses as well. Tonight was no night for stress and bad news. He’d much rather enjoy his plate of wild boar, Ryuuji thought to himself as he took a sip of wine.   </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. First Arc: Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“...No, in here...” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Called her already…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Right. No, he was…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something heavy on his chest. On his legs, too. Something warm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...The way I saw…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hmm, a hearty smell...sesame oil? Must be. Something frying in sesame oil. Maybe lotus root. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sounds and smells came and went in fleeting moments as Jinichi drifted in and out of consciousness. He stirred only a couple times, and had barely woken enough to feel immensely tired and groggy. He had no idea how long he’d been out when he finally came to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes opened slowly, and he quickly became aware of how puffy they were. His head was throbbing dully. The ceiling above him swam into focus, and he realized it was a ceiling that he did not recognize. His eyes fluttered to the side, where there was a traditional-looking, wooden  open window. Crickets chirped mercilessly outside, and strong moonlight poured in and shone on his face. The sky was clear and still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slowly, with the support of his elbow, he sat up. Hunched over, he held his head in his hands and massaged his temples to try and soothe the throbbing. He was lying in a dense futon, with a cover that was embroidered with silk cranes. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d slept in a futon. Curiously, he looked around. The room around him was very plain, but looked serene in the silvery moonlight. Next to him was a tray with a cup of water and a packet of rice crackers on it. There was a scroll on the wall with a calligraphed idiom that he wasn’t familiar with. There was a vase of dried flowers and a bookshelf. There was also a sword stand with two katana resting on it. For some strange reason, they looked familiar. Jinichi squinted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, he heard the sound of voices, muffled and coming from another room. He instinctively stiffened. The shadow of a figure appeared outside of the paper doors across the room, and Jinichi froze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The door slid open. And there stood Shinjiro. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a tray in his hands. His hair, which Jinichi had only seen down and smoothly combed, was tied up in some strange, sloppy bun. And his usual elegant robes were nowhere to be seen. Instead, he was clad only in a pair of baggy gray sweatpants. He was also wearing a pair of thick glasses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh...hello,” Jinichi said, confused. His voice was scratchier than he’d anticipated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re awake,” Shinjiro breathed, his eyes wide with surprise. As he realized what was occurring, he collected himself and hurried into the room, kneeling by Jinichi’s side. With a deadly serious gaze, he took the cup of water from the tray and pushed it into Jinichi’s hands. “Here, you need to drink something. How do you feel?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Clearing his throat, Jinichi drank the water without hesitation. “Um, fine I guess,” he responded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “What’s going—oh!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He cut himself off with a gasp as Shinjiro suddenly put his hand on his cheek. Then, his forehead. Taking his temperature. “You’re still running a fever,” Shinjiro murmured. He picked up the towel from the tray he had brought in. “Here. Lie down and rest this on your forehead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now that he mentioned it, Jinichi did feel a bit achy. Obediently, he slowly laid back down and cleared his bangs away to make a nice cozy spot for the towel. It was cool and refreshing on his warm skin. But he was still very confused. He looked over at Shinjiro, who was messing around with the trays. He also noticed that his hands were wrapped with bandages, around the knuckles. They seemed to be slightly brown, stained with dried blood. Alarmed, Jinichi glanced up at his focused face. “Hey, really um, what’s all this abou—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Jinichi!” An unmistakable voice filled the room. Jinichi looked over to see Miyoko in the doorway. “You’re up?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, Miyoko was here, too? What a relief..! He waved at her. Shinjiro silently stood and left, quickly replaced by Miyoko. He slid the paper door closed behind him, leaving the two of them alone in the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi sis,” Jinichi greeted sheepishly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You scared me to death!” she exclaimed, smacking his waving hand away. She, too, put her hands all along his face to feel his temperature. Just, much more frantically than Shinjiro had. Perhaps her real intent was to slap him, sick with worry, but knew that she could not. She clenched her jaw and searched his face anxiously. “Are you okay?!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...shit, I mean I guess,” he mumbled. “I feel alright. I don’t really remember what happened, but obviously something...by the way, where the hell are we?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Silent for a few moments more, Miyoko finally heaved a huge sigh that seemed to have been keeping her shoulders hunched up. Her whole body sagged in relief as she realized that her brother was truly alright. “You’re in Shinjiro’s room,” she told him. “You...really don’t remember what happened?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi looked around in thought. “I remember a bit, but I </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>just wake up and all.” He chewed his lip. Yes, he did recall having a good time with Shinjiro at the izakaya, and wandering around the surrounding area in the rain. He smiled at his sister. “I’m sure I’ll remember more soon. I’m sorry I worried you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko’s eyes were wide with worry as she looked down at her brother. Her lips pulled into a frown. “It’s okay. I’m just glad you’re alright.” She adjusted the towel on his forehead, and smoothed some of his hair back. “Besides, Shinjiro’s the one who’s been most worried. He hasn’t slept since he brought you here. Hell, he’s barely sat still for more than ten minutes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi’s brows furrowed in confusion. What could have happened to put everyone so on edge? And to make him pass out and run a fever? “Miyoko,” he began, “how long have I been unconscious?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...It’s been a whole twenty-four hours,” Miyoko told him, calm but still worried. Her frown deepened as her brother’s face grew more and more perplexed. “Xiulan and I got here as fast as we could, too. But Shinjiro’s been the one taking care of you, because, well you know, I don’t really know much about that kind of thing…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Miyoko trailed off, Jinichi’s gaze floated away from her. He instead looked out the window once more, at the brightly shining moon. What could have happened to cause all this chaos? He thought about it, hard. Had he really passed out for a whole day? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembered watching people pass by in the rain, seemingly in good company with their friends. Everyone had been laughing and skipping along, despite the crappy weather. Hmm. Thad had been a fun sight to see. Jinichi again rubbed his puffy eyes, trying to push the sleepiness out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he remembered the policeman approaching him. Oh yeah, that’s right. He’d had a chat with a policeman, hadn’t he. Strange, to see a policeman in a place like that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi yawned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a sudden thumping of his heart, he remembered how the policeman had confronted him. The words he spat at him. The way he’d knocked him to the ground, and kneeled over him…</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a cry, Jinichi clutched his head and shut his eyes. He shrank into the futon, curling in on himself on his side. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan watched Shinjiro slice a stalk of green onions, sliding the small green rings into a steaming pot. She frowned at the obvious fatigue under his eyes. “Shin, why don’t you give it a rest? He’s awake now, right? Miyoko and I can take it from here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Shinjiro said nothing. He stared intently at the pot as he stirred, turning down the heat. Xiulan sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They heard a muffled wail from the other room. Both of them glanced up, alarmed. As they listened, they heard the sound of two voices, one speaking and one crying. Xiulan looked at Shinjiro with large eyes and a deep frown. His face darkened, and he turned back to focus on the stove. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He must’ve just remembered what happened,” Xiulan murmured, looking down at the table. There was silence for a few moments, and both of them were unable to avoid the faint sounds of sobs from the next room over. Xiulan slowly pulled her legs onto the seat of the dining room chair, and drew her knees close to her chest. She closed her eyes and tried to drown out the heart-wrenching sound by focusing on the sound of Shinjiro chopping more vegetables and stirring the pot. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sobs died down after a few minutes, replaced by a heavy silence instead. Shinjiro had finished cooking, and placed a lid on the pot after turning the flames down to miniscule blue dots. Xiulan watched him resume doing what he had been for the majority of the past twenty four hours: he leaned his back against the counter, touched a contemplative fist to his chin, and stared intensely at the empty space before him. It seemed like hours had passed before there was finally another sound. It was the door to Shinjiro’s room, sliding open slowly. Xiulan watched with large eyes and Miyoko and Jinichi emerged, holding onto each other and shuffling over to the bathroom. After the sound of a door shutting, Miyoko remerged into the kitchen, alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well,” she began, breaking the stiff silence in the room. “I think he’s alright now, if you want to talk to him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan looked at her. “Aw, no—don’t you think it’s still too soon?” she asked softly. “We ought to let him rest.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko came closer to them both. Her face was visibly red, and she looked a bit drained. “I dunno, he might go crazy if he’s left alone in a quiet room for much longer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan frowned at her. “I don’t know...” she murmured hesitantly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are pressing matters to discuss.” Shinjiro’s eyes were still gazing at the space before him as he spoke. Miyoko and Xiulan didn’t need to ask what he meant—they had all talked about things in length as they had waited for Jinichi to wake up. But Xiulan glanced at him doubtfully. He acknowledged her look, and turned to face Miyoko. “Are you sure he’s alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amazingly, Miyoko was able to offer a small smile. “I’m sure. He and I...we were raised to be honest with our emotions. To confront them as they come. He can do that just fine in front of all of us, if he needs to.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They heard the bathroom door open, and a few moments later Jinichi appeared from the hallway. Shinjiro pushed off the counter and straightened up, and Xiulan smiled at him with a wave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Heh, sorry about...that,” he said sheepishly. He was referring to the crying, of course. He laughed a bit. “I hope that wasn’t too awkward.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The ferocity of Shinjiro’s expression made it seem as though he had a million things he wanted to say, that were right on the tip of his tongue. He remained silent, though. Xiulan watched him for a moment, but then looked back at Jinichi. She smiled warmly at him. “No need to apologize,” she insisted. “How’re you feeling?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ve been better,” Jinichi laughed. He watched as Miyoko pulled a small throw blanket off the back of a dining chair, then spread it and draped it over his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey. Think we can all talk for a sec?” she asked him. She pulled the blanket snugly around him so that it hugged his neck. Jinichi smiled knowingly, then nodded. He let Miyoko help him over into the living room, where they sat on the tatami in front of a low table. Xiulan got up to join them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro retrieved a bowl from the cupboard, and poured into it a hearty serving of the dish he had prepared. He snatched up a spoon and headed over to join the rest. He set the bowl in front of Jinichi and handed him the spoon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here. Ojiya.” He seated himself across from Jinichi, so that the four of them were in a square around the table. He put his hands on his knees. Even in his own home, in loungewear, his actions were still formal as ever. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, thanks!” Jinichi picked up the spoon and stirred the ojiya around before scooping some up and putting it in his mouth. He hummed in satisfaction. “Mmm. You made this? It’s good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Best for your fever,” Shinjiro murmured. He noticed Miyoko slowly, perhaps absentmindedly, rubbing her brother’s arm. He looked intently at Jinichi. “I’m glad you’re okay.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi looked up, his mouth full and his eyes twinkling somehow, despite the circumstances. “Couldn’t have done it without ya,” he chirped. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro looked down at the table momentarily, and it seemed as though some thought flashed through his mind. But he quickly gathered himself and looked back up. “Jinichi. Your sage abilities...you…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi’s shoulders heaved with a sigh, and he finished chewing before continuing to speak. “Yeah, my life is a lie,” he admitted, stirring the ojiya around. “I know, I know.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro eyed him. “You...</span>
  <em>
    <span>do</span>
  </em>
  <span> know what your true powers are, don’t you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course!” Jinichi exclaimed, his stirring coming to a stop. “I’m no idiot. Why do you think I’ve kept it a secret this whole time?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As the conversation developed, Xiulan found herself leaning in with interest. This is what she was really curious about. Although Shinjiro had tried explaining it to her, she still couldn’t really wrap her head around it. She stayed silent, but listened intently. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I apologize,” Shinjiro murmured, bowing his head. “What a tremendous responsibility you hold, to keep such a secret.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi seemed to pout. “You have no idea,” he agreed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you...either of you, did you ever intend to tell me?” Shinjiro asked calmly, glancing between the two siblings. “That you are a Celestial Sage, Jinichi?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” the twins answered in eerie synchronization. While Miyoko’s tone was hard and serious, Jinichi answered with an aloof shrug of his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro was perplexed. “Why not?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What does it change?” Jinichi asked. “So, you know that I’m a Celestial Sage now. Whatcha gonna do about it? Train me to go suck the life out of the bureaucrats you hate?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro stared at him. He was embarrassed, and ashamed. Was this the impression that Jinichi held of him, and of his goals? He clenched his jaw. “Jinichi...you realize the potential that you have, don’t you? This is monumental. The Celestial Sages had the power to not only control life force, but to ascend the laws of physics, to heal wounds in ways unknown to sagekind, and many other things…” Shinjiro’s voice trailed off. “There’s no doubt that some of these powers could help find Hyunsoo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the mention of his friend, Jinichi glanced at his bowl of ojiya. He looked frustrated. “Yeah, sure. And how am I supposed to learn all of this magic? All the Celestial Sages died like, a thousand years ago or whatever.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The Celestial Scrolls.” Shinjiro answered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Jinichi looked up from his bowl. “The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Celestial Scrolls?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he repeated, his mouth in somewhat of a scowl. “Those are just myths! No one’s ever found them, and no one ever will. ‘Cause they aren’t real.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was clear that Jinichi held a lot of frustration around the topic. Shinjiro couldn’t fathom why. Of course, he couldn’t imagine what it meant to be in his place...to be a descendant of the Celestial Sages. That was unthinkable, even as a concept. Maybe Jinichi felt that way, too. Maybe Jinichi also found it so unimaginable, that he didn’t even believe it himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro frowned slightly. “The reason that no one has found them is because they can only be read by Celestial Sages.” He paused. “Anyone else who has tried to look for them is a fool.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, and so you think </span>
  <em>
    <span>I </span>
  </em>
  <span>should go find them,” Jinichi scoffed, jabbing his spoon into the soupy rice. “Right. It’s all up to me, to find the scrolls, save the world, blah blah. Didja ever wonder if I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to do any of that? Do you think I asked to be a Celestial Sage?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko nudged him sharply. “Hey, cut the attitude,” she hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, no he’s absolutely right,” Shinjiro said, nodding his head in a bow. “My deepest apologies. I’ve spoken far out of line.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone was surprised to see Shinjiro stand up, and bow deeply. He murmured a soft apology, and then excused himself. The three that were left at the table sat in a somewhat tense silence. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s just trying to help, you know,” Miyoko muttered, clearly frustrated with her brother. In response, Jinichi just made a mocking face and ate more of his ojiya. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why don’t we go outside and get some fresh air?” Xiulan suggested, smiling and trying to offer some relief to the tension. “The sky’s really pretty tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I like that idea,” Jinichi said, finally smiling. With help from his sister, he stood, and the three of them made their way out onto the engawa. He turned to Xiulan. “By the way, I’m sorry that we never got a proper introduction. I’m sure you’re well aware by now, but I’m Jinichi.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan smiled widely at him. “I’m Xiulan,” she replied, cocking her head to the side so that her curls bounced. “I’m really glad to see you’re doing okay tonight.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi felt oddly bashful from her kindness. “Thanks,” he murmured. “I’m sorry we’ve had to get to know each other under such shitty circumstances.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, no no,” Xiulan immediately protested, waving her hands. “Don’t apologize for that. It’s not your fault at all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amidst their conversation, Miyoko stepped off of the engawa and onto the grass, hoisting her arms above her head in a stretch. It was a pleasant little yard. Jinichi decided to step down from the engawa as well, descending into the yard and looking around. Xiulan naturally followed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“By the way, Jinichi...I know this is awful timing,” Xiulan began, her voice hesitant but also curious. “But I was wondering if you could, um, show me what magic you can use? Shin and Miyoko tried to explain it to me—this life force stuff—but I still don’t really get it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, sure,” Jinichi replied, not bothered at all. He glanced around the yard, looking for a good way to demonstrate. Over by the edge of the yard, he saw a tsubaki shrub. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan followed him to the shrub. It was a fairly unassuming plant, since it didn’t bloom at this time of year. There weren’t even any buds. It was just a tangle of deep green leaves. But Xiulan watched with wide eyes as Jinichi held out his hand, and a soft golden light seemed to waft up from his palm and onto a small part of the shrub. Within seconds, a bright pink bud had formed, then bloomed into a large, beautiful tsubaki flower. Smiling, Jinichi plucked it and handed it to Xiulan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She gasped, twirling the flower around in her fingers. “That’s incredible,” she breathed. She beamed at him. “That’s fantastic, Jinichi! I’ve never seen anything like it!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s one of the most common forms of magic,” he explained. “Kind of considered to be the lower-class of Sage society, especially in a city like this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mmmm,” Xiulan hummed, still transfixed by the tsubaki flower. “That’s a shame. You could never convince me to consider this low-class magic. It’s beautiful.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi said nothing in response. He smiled faintly, but found that he had no words to offer. Instead, he looked beyond the tsubaki bush and around the rest of the yard. That’s when he noticed something interesting that caught his eye. Slowly, he made his way over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The yard was surrounded by a standard stone wall. It was in rough shape, sure, but it was holding up just fine. However, there was one spot that was unmistakably damaged, with stone having crumbled off, as if it had been bashed with a tool. And, as Jinichi looked closer, he could make out some dark splotches staining the stone. In the night, he couldn’t make out the color of the stains. But he had a feeling he knew what it was. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh...what happened here?” Jinichi asked, peering at the wall. He turned around to find both his sister and Xiulan standing there somewhat awkwardly, looking at the ground or scratching their arms. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...That was Shinjiro,” Xiulan admitted. She sighed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was shortly after Shinjiro had bust through the door with an unconscious Jinichi in his arms. Miyoko and Xiulan had been hanging out at the house, waiting for Shinjiro to return home from his dinner with Jinichi so that they could hear the news on how things went. The night had taken an unexpected turn for all of them. They had all rushed to get Jinichi to bed, to check his vitals, to do whatever they could to make sure he was well taken care of. Throughout the whole process, neither Miyoko nor Xiulan could get a word out of Shinjiro as to what had happened. Instead, after things had settled down, they could only watch as Shinjiro paced around the house in silent fury. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro had stepped out into the yard. Xiulan and Miyoko remained in the tatami room, sitting around without much to say. Xiulan held Miyoko’s hands, occasionally squeezing them to reassure her. After a while, Miyoko had gotten up to use the bathroom and check on Jinichi. It was when Xiulan was left alone that she heard a commotion in the yard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She hurried to her feet and ran out onto the engawa, only to find Shinjiro throwing punches at the stone wall, yelling with blind rage as he hit. Xiulan gasped and immediately sprinted over to him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shinjiro, stop!” she cried, terrified to see his bare knuckles busted open. “Shinjiro!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he seemed not to hear her. He went on punching, and Xiulan had no choice but to try and physically restrain him. She grabbed him by the waist and tried to haul him away, to no avail. She grabbed his arms, but needed two to even try and hold one of his arms back. He broke through her grip with ease. Desperate, she started to call out to Miyoko for help. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In mere moments, Miyoko had emerged from the house and came rushing into the backyard. She grabbed Shinjiro’s arms, pulling them behind his back in a swift movement, and hauled him away from the wall. He tried to lunge out of her hold, but it was absolutely no use. She was far too strong for him. He breathed so heavily that his entire body heaved with the effort. Xiulan ran up to him, cupping his face and trying to calm him. Finally, with a noise like a whimper, he sank to the ground and sat, dazed, in the grass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko brought out a wet rag to try and get the blood off of the wall. Of course, she couldn’t get it all. Some of it had seeped into the porous surface of the stones. Xiulan had brought out a medical kit and sat with Shinjiro, helping him clean his wounds. One of his knuckles was so busted that a spot of bone showed through. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he had been calm since then. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi scratched his neck after the girls finished recalling the situation. He glanced over his shoulder, back at the wall. His knuckles hurt just looking at it. Well, that explained the bandages that he saw wrapped around Shinjiro’s hands. Heaving a sigh, Jinichi walked over to his sister and Xiulan. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What a mess I’ve caused,” he laughed, looking apologetically at them both. “I’m sorry, guys.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Both of their faces lit up with the same reaction—refusal. “Stop that! Don’t apologize!” they cried. Miyoko glared at him. “Apologize again, and I’ll smack you over the head!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi erupted in laughter, to Miyoko’s dismay. But Xiulan couldn’t help but giggle. “Seriously, though, I bet you guys are tired,” Jinichi remarked. “Maybe we should head to bed.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you be able to sleep?” Xiulan asked, leading the way back into the house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I doubt it,” Jinichi admitted, “but it’ll feel nice to lay down and relax either way.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they reentered the house, they found Shinjiro setting up a futon in the tatami room. He glanced at them briefly, nodded, and continued what he was doing. “Sleeping here tonight,” he said in his usual conciseness. He looked at Miyoko. “Where would you like?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko thought for a moment. She touched Jinichi’s arm. “Do you want me to sleep in the room with you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ew, no,” Jinichi squeaked, making a face at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes. “In Xiulan’s room, then.” Shinjiro nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As everyone started to get settled in for the night, Miyoko brought a bag into Shinjiro’s room, where Jinichi was examining the katana that were resting on a stand. He looked up as she entered. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I brought some things for you, while you were knocked out,” she said, holding up the bag. “Just some clean clothes for you to change into, and other things. Come wake me up if you need anything.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi eyed her, taking the bag. “Wake you up for what? You don’t even know how to use a band-aid,” Jinichi teased. “I’ll be fine. Just get some sleep, sis.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko folded her arms. “Shut up, dumbass,” she muttered. “Whatever you do, just don’t go waking up Shinjiro, okay? He needs sleep the most out of all of us.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi saluted her, and she left with a smirk. He rummaged through the bag that she had dropped off, finding a toothbrush, toothpaste, comb, and the clothes she had mentioned. He pulled the items out to change into. It was a pair of pajama shorts and one of his favorite oversized shirts for wearing to bed. It had a simple design of three smiling snails on the chest. He quickly changed and immediately felt better upon having a clean set of clothes on. His arms and legs were grateful to be exposed to fresh air. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crawled onto the futon, but didn’t get inside. Instead, he pulled his legs into a criss-cross position and looked up at the moon through the open window. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thought back on what had happened to him the other night. He couldn’t believe it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The details were still hazy, and Jinichi doubted that he would ever remember everything clearly. He didn’t particularly want to, either. He couldn’t say for sure that he had been raped. He couldn’t remember. Oddly, he was okay with not knowing. He didn’t feel that it particularly mattered in the grand scheme of things. It wouldn’t quell his anger to know that he hadn’t been. Conversely, it couldn’t make him any angrier if he had been. The damage was done, and that was that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he had cried earlier, he had been crying from anger. He had recalled what the police officer had said to him before attacking him. The things he’d said to mock him, to berate him. Some of which weren’t even true. Cripple, sure. He’d heard that one too many times to count. But faggot, and fairy? Those were new. He supposed he wasn’t all too shocked, though. He was well aware that he was far from masculine. He’d never found issue with it, though. He thought he looked nice. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But human...the officer had called him human. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi cocked his head at the moon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was that supposed to be taken as an insult? Did he feel offended when he had been called a human? He didn’t think so. He had felt shocked, certainly. But offended? He couldn’t understand why he would’ve felt that way. There was nothing wrong with being a human. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And that’s when things instantly clicked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, there was </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrong with being a human. Maybe Jinichi personally didn’t think so. Neither did Miyoko, nor Shinjiro. But most sages </span>
  <em>
    <span>did </span>
  </em>
  <span>think so. If the police officer had known that Jinichi was a sage, would he not have tried to assault him? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi’s mouth fell slightly ajar as he came to the realization that, no, he probably would not have. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt the anger rising in his throat. Had he really been so blissfully ignorant before? Miyoko had been right all along. Things really </span>
  <em>
    <span>were </span>
  </em>
  <span>that bad for humans. Even with Hyunsoo at his side, he’d still been too blind to fully fact that reality. It had taken an awful experience like this to open his fucking eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had been targeted, by a sage officer, because he was thought to be a human. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi sat with this realization for a long time. He drew shapes on his bare legs, unable to shake his mind from it. He finished the water that was left for him on the tray by his futon. He tried to lay down, shifting into various positions, but sleep wouldn’t come to him. He had a feeling that it wouldn’t come for a while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finally stood, he noticed that the sky outside was a slightly lighter blue than it had been before. He didn’t know exactly how much time had passed, but it had been a few hours at least. He picked up the empty glass on the tray, and left the room as silently as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuffled into the kitchen, where he refilled his glass with water from the sink. He drank it down, then filled it up again. This time, he headed out to the backyard. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sky had indeed gotten lighter. A few of the brightest stars still managed to dot the early morning sky, but he had to squint to really see them. In the distance, he heard the occasional chirp of a bird. Most remained asleep, he supposed. This was the time of day when all the coldness from the night had accumulated, but the sun was already teasing its warm rays into the sky. In a matter of hours, the temperature would rise significantly. For now, the cool morning air felt refreshing on his skin. He drank his water slowly and continued gazing up at the sky. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Although Shinjiro was never a particularly deep sleeper, tonight was exceptionally restless. He fell asleep quickly from sheer fatigue, but woke after a couple hours with an overwhelming sense of anxiety crawling over his skin. No matter how he tried to shrug it off, it simply would not budge. He finally gave up, and instead settled with lying awake and staring at the ceiling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was certainly an old house, and the creaks and groans of the floorboards were common. But the soft padding of footsteps was unmistakable. At first, Shinjiro wondered who it might be. But as he listened carefully, he noticed another sound in addition to footsteps. Ah. The gentle press of a cane in between each set of steps. Shinjiro listened to him wander to the kitchen, then out past the tatami room and to the backyard. He wondered if it would be appropriate to go apologize to him now, or if he should allow him some private time to himself. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After about half an hour had passed, Shinjiro finally came to the resolution that it would be okay to speak with him. He got out of his futon, pulled on the pair of sweatpants he had been wearing before, and quickly ducked into the kitchen. From in the fridge, he pulled out two velvety white peaches and swiftly sliced them up, putting the juicy wedges into a bowl. Then he quietly made his way out to the engawa. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He found Jinichi standing in the middle of the yard, his back facing the house. He appeared to only be wearing a long light blue t-shirt that went down to his thighs, and was without his leg braces. Shinjiro noticed he was barefoot. There was a circular patch of dark green that surrounded his feet. As Shinjiro got closer, he saw that it was made up of clovers. Tiny white flowers speckled the mass of lush green leaves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As to not startle him, Shinjiro cleared his throat as he approached. To his surprise, Jinichi didn’t turn around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Good morning,” he called softly instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro paused. “Good morning,” he replied. He realized that Jinichi was looking down, presumably at something in his hands. Cautiously, he came closer. “Do you like white peach?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Naturally.” Jinichi’s reply was brief, but not in any way rude. At last he turned his head, greeting Shinjiro with a small smile. He spotted the bowl of peach slices, and quickly grabbed one. As he pushed it past his lips, his smile widened. “Mm. Sweet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro watched as Jinichi went back to what he’d been doing before being interrupted. He had a bouquet of clovers and clover flowers in his hand and was carefully examining them, sorting through the bunch to look for something. What he was looking for, Shinjiro had no idea. “Jinichi,” he began. “I’m sorry for the way I handled our conversation earlier.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You should be,” Jinichi replied. He looked up from his bouquet, and Shinjiro was confused to see him grinning. “Upset me again, and I’ll drain your life force before you can blink.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I...don’t doubt that,” Shinjiro said back, hoping that he was playing into the banter. “But in all seriousness...my behavior was unacceptable. I didn’t even stop to ask how you’re feeling.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi said nothing. Rather, his hands froze and stopped sorting through the weeds he had gathered. He glanced sideways at Shinjiro. Then, Shinjiro noticed the patch of green clovers at his feet was expanding. Sprouts of clovers quickly began to pop up in the grass, making a trail towards Shinjiro’s own feet. Before he knew it, there was a tangle of clovers at his feet as well. He watched as the clovers grew taller and twisted around each other in such a way that tied Shinjiro’s feet to the earth. He blinked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are your hands?” Jinichi asked instead, calmly going back to sorting through his bouquet. “I heard you had quite the outrage, mister berserk.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro looked at his bandaged knuckles holding the bowl of peach slices. As if on queue, Jinichi reached over to pick up another piece. “They’ll be fine.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Bullshit,” Jinichi snorted. He picked out a flower from his bouquet, and dropped it to the ground. Didn’t make the cut, apparently. “Why did you go and do that to yourself?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprised by his question, Shinjiro had no words at first. “I...I was upset,” he finally murmured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi watched him, to see if he would elaborate on that. It looked like he wanted to, but perhaps was too conflicted about how to express himself. His brows furrowed, and he looked down at the bowl of peaches. Jinichi decided to give him a break. He supposed he was a man of few words, after all. Instead, he just sighed. Maybe he ought to bring him a few vials of medicine from his shop. With the healing knowledge that seemed to be available among Shinjiro, Miyoko, and Xiulan, he doubted that those knuckles were being well cared for. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The clovers that were holding Shinjiro’s feet down started to shrivel and brown. In seconds, his feet were free again. Wordlessly, Jinichi moved away from him, walking back to the engawa instead. Shinjiro followed him, and they sat on the edge of the porch together. Jinichi began to sort the clovers from the flowers, but not before popping another piece of peach into his mouth. He took two clovers, and with nimble fingers, tied them together by their long stems. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know,” Jinichi began. “I should apologize, too. Being a Celestial Sage is a big deal. You were right—I have to think about how learning my true powers could help Hyunsoo, and the others.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro shook his head. “Disregard what I said. You should focus on taking time to heal, for now.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was silence for a while. Jinichi wove his clovers together, occasionally lacing a flower into the garland. “I won’t heal by just sitting around,” he murmured. “I ought to go find the Celestial Scrolls.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro was taken aback. “You believe that they exist?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Contrary to what I said earlier, yeah, I do,” Jinichi admitted. “I know all about them...ever since I first discovered my Celestial abilities as a kid, I’ve been, er, somewhat obsessed I guess. I’ve spent countless hours reading up on the Celestial Sages—their stories, their teachings, the legacy that they left. I mean, how could I not want to know everything about the ancestors whose magic I inherited? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So...then...why did you react so negatively when I brought it up?” Shinjiro asked, confused. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a huge responsibility, you know. To be the magical descendant of an ancient group of sages. I’m terrified.” Jinichi halted his garland weaving. Instead, he lifted his head and looked out towards the yard. “I just want to live a simple, unassuming life. I didn’t ask for any of this. If I had the choice, I’d ask for it all to be taken away.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...But, I don’t have that choice. In this situation, what I want doesn’t matter,” Jinichi went on. “Hyunsoo, and all the others who have been kidnapped—they didn’t have a choice, either. I realized that, after remembering how that policeman took me for a human. But I </span>
  <em>
    <span>do </span>
  </em>
  <span>have one choice: I can be a bystander and let these things happen, or I can do the right thing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro had been watching Jinichi speak, but soon found his eyes wandering to his lap where he held the bowl of peaches. His fingers curled, just a bit. “Why don’t you think about it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Waste of time,” Jinichi said, shaking his head. After a pause, he turned to look at Shinjiro. “I told you, I’ve got no other choice. Besides, the idea of finding the Celestial Scrolls is really...well, exciting, don’t you think?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For the first time since he’d regained consciousness, Shinjiro saw that certain twinkle of enthusiasm in Jinichi’s eyes. Shinjiro finally felt some of his anxiety subside. “Yes, I think so.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi smiled to himself and hummed happily. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. First Arc: Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>When Miyoko stirred into waking, the first thing she noticed was a strong smell. Blinking, she rolled over and sat up. Xiulan was sprawled out on the futon next to her, and she shifted as Miyoko sat up. Her hair was a curly mess, and one of her legs stuck out from the blanket. She was probably in waking, too. The clock on Xiulan’s cluttered shelf read 10:42. They had slept for almost nine hours. A well-deserved sleep, she supposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curiously, she sniffed the air. It smelled delightful. She then became aware of the sounds of cooking: a fan going, the chopping of a knife, the clang of utensils against pots and pans. She decided to let Xiulan wake up at her own pace, and she herself silently got up and left the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She was surprised to see Shinjiro and Jinichi in the kitchen, tending to various things on the stove and counter. A billowing steam rose from the stovetop, where Jinichi opened the lid of a pot to peer inside. Shinjiro was pouring something into a bowl. Among the general clamour of the cooking, Miyoko could hear the low hum of words being passed between them. What they were saying, she couldn’t tell. She also saw that the dining table was already decorated with a number of dishes, including a salad, fresh rolls, some pickled vegetables, and sliced white peaches. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Though it was an appetizing scene, Miyoko suddenly found herself frustrated that these two were up and cooking food, rather than resting. Frowning, she made her way over to them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Morning, boys,” she greeted with a decent amount of suspicion in her voice. “You’ve been cooking?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi spun around. “Sis!” he exclaimed. “Yeah, we’re making brunch. Ya hungry?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could eat,” she admitted. She eyed them both. “Did you get enough sleep?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I passed out for a whole day, so I’m fine,” Jinichi laughed. He pointed his cooking chopsticks at Shinjiro. “Not so sure about this one, though.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko gave her brother a critical look. “I told you not to bother him, idiot!” she hissed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi’s mouth fell open in a gasp. “I didn’t do shit!” he protested. “He was already up!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No need to bicker,” Shinjiro interjected calmly. “It’s true, Miyoko. I was awake on my own accord.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“See?” Jinichi said, sticking his nose up at his sister. He turned around to resume tending to his pot on the stove. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko shrugged, rolling her eyes. She left the kitchen and went to the bathroom to wash her face and brush her teeth. When she finished, she found Xiulan sleepily standing in the doorway to her room. Miyoko pushed some hair out of her face, and she grumbled groggily. Gently, Miyoko coaxed her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where Jinichi and Shinjiro were setting down the last few plates of the meal they’d prepared. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The sight of a grand banquet, along with the indulgent smells it offered, quickly pulled Xiulan out of her drowsy state. Her eyes widened as she looked all around the table. “Pancakes!” she exclaimed, spotting the plate of round, golden cakes. Shinjiro never made pancakes for breakfast. She guessed that it must’ve been Jinichi’s doing. There was even whipped cream and sliced strawberries to go along with them. Xiulan hungrily took a seat. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko and Jinichi quickly followed suit, taking seats around the table as well. Shinjiro remained standing, and carefully poured tea for everyone. The steam rose and fogged his glasses. He promptly took them off, slipping them into his pocket. Miyoko found the sight of Shinjiro in a tanktop and sweatpants, with his glasses, to be quite alien. She almost laughed. Somehow, Xiulan could read her face, and giggled silently next to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, dig in guys!” Jinichi cheered, already picking up his chopsticks. “And tell me what you like best, because I wanna make sure my dishes taste better than Shinjiro’s.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all murmured their own versions of </span>
  <em>
    <span>itadakimasu</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Jinichi exclaimed it as he was reaching over for the bowl of boiled pumpkin. Miyoko said it with a quick nod before touching anything on the table. Xiulan murmured it into her cup of tea as she took a sip. And Shinjiro said it quietly with a nod, his chopsticks tucked between his thumbs and his hands in a praying gesture. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So, what is this,” Xiulan started, her mouth full of pancake and her hand pointing at the expansive breakfast. “You guys just woke up early and decided to open a breakfast buffet?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We had been talking,” Shinjiro informed her. He had put his glasses back on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s right,” Jinichi added. “I’ve decided to go look for the Celestial Scrolls.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sort of awed silence fell over the table. Xiulan looked up from her plate, surprised. And Miyoko looked intently at her brother. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Really..?” Miyoko asked, the uncertainty very clear in her voice. She glanced between him and Shinjiro, who seemed unbothered. “That was a quick turnaround. What—what made you change your mind?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I realized that I don’t have any other choice,” Jinichi said simply, grinning at her before tearing off a chunk of pancake with his teeth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko knew full well that her brother believed in the Celestial Scrolls, along with most of the other legends about the Celestial Sages. He had believed in them for a long, long time—for as long as she could remember, really. Ever since he had learnt of his powers. But he’d never gone beyond reading books and stories. And he never talked about doing so, either. In addition to believing in the legacy of the Celestial Sages, Miyoko also knew that her brother had a strong desire to live a “normal” life. To hear him announce that he would set out to hunt down some legendary scrolls was, well, shocking.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, there had been a profound change in Jinichi. There was no way to deny this. Miyoko found her eyes drifting downwards, to the table. Her gaze blurred out of focus. She had a feeling that she knew his reasoning, without having to ask. </span>
  <em>
    <span>I don’t have any other choice</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he said. He had realized a new responsibility for himself. He was carrying out a duty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That sounds epic,” Xiulan gasped, pulling Miyoko out of her trance. “Where are you gonna go look for them?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi laughed. “Great question,” he responded, shrugging. “Somewhere in the mountains. Aside from that, not too sure yet.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not going alone, are you?” Miyoko blurted out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi paused, staring at her. “Oh!” he gasped. “I really hadn’t thought about it. Guess it’d be a bad idea to go alone, wouldn’t it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Certainly,” Miyoko grumbled, upset that her brother hadn’t thought of something so essential. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi’s brows furrowed in thought. “Well, that puts a halt to things, doesn’t it. I’ve got to find someone to go with.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yet another silence fell over the table. Even Xiulan, who had been eating ravenously, paused and peered around at the others. “Should we all go?” she asked, her tone suggestive but highly unsure. Miyoko seemed to give her a small wince. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No way!” Jinichi exclaimed. “I won’t make you guys do that. It’s such a sudden thing, and who knows how long it’ll—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will go.” Shinjiro’s voice was gentle, but firm. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi’s head whipped to the side to face him, staring in disbelief. “Hey, thanks for volunteering, but let’s consider </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>feelings on the matter for a second—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think about it,” Shinjiro went on, looking seriously at both Miyoko and Xiulan. “Miyoko, you still have your dojo to run and maintain. More importantly, you two have created a strong network of humans who support putting an end to the kidnappings. You both are close with them all. You have already done much more than I have in that regard. It’s wise of you to stay here and maintain—and expand—that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Additionally, I myself am quite well-read on Celestial lore and could aid in Jinichi’s search for the scrolls. I fear that I might be more helpful to him than I would be to you both if I stayed here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Everyone passed glances back and forth. Xiulan and Miyoko looked at each other with uncertainty for a long time. Both of them knew that Shinjiro was right. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Maybe, let’s um, just think this over,” Miyoko suggested, though she had no idea what there was to think about. She couldn’t argue against his logic. What he said about her dojo, and the network of supporters, was true. And she had no doubt that he knew more about the Celestial Sages than she did. While she had always supported Jinichi’s interest in them, she herself never cared to look into the details much. Especially not the details about some legendary scrolls. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi scratched his head. “You really think that’s the best idea?” he asked aloud, to no one in particular. Then he focused on his sister. He could see through her facade. “You think it’s even better than you coming along, sis?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Somewhat at a loss for words, Miyoko shifted in her seat. “Well, he’s right about the dojo and the Celestial knowledge,” she admitted. “The only other thing I could think of is how I could provide you physical aid and protection, but...I </span>
  <em>
    <span>think </span>
  </em>
  <span>Shinjiro’s got that covered.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Think about my </span>
  <em>
    <span>emotional </span>
  </em>
  <span>well-being,” Jinichi groaned. He jerked his thumb at Shinjiro. “What am I going to do when my only companion is a </span>
  <em>
    <span>brick wall?</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko kicked him harshly under the table. “Hey!” she shouted. “You’re a piece of shit, you know that?! We ought to send you out alone, and see how you hold up then!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I stand corrected,” Jinichi gasped, wincing in pain. He curled over slightly, flashing a smile through his grimace. “Oh, I love brick walls…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fuming at her brother, Miyoko turned to Shinjiro with an apologetic frown. “Don’t feel like you have to do this.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan, however, was stifling her laughter. “I dunno, I think it’s a good idea,” she murmured. “You really are a brick wall, Shin. Maybe you could use this as an opportunity to build your social skills.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“As if Jinichi has any social skills,” Miyoko scoffed. Then she paused, as an idea had come to her. Her expression suddenly became more pleasant. “I suppose Jinichi could learn a thing or two about dignity and humility.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross!” Jinichi spat. He hid behind his arms as Miyoko raised a threatening fist at him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro remained quiet among the bickering. He simply picked at the food on his plate, putting small pieces of pumpkin and mountain potatoes into his mouth. Xiulan couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She never could. But he certainly didn’t seem to be in any sort of foul mood—she could at least tell that much. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your mind is really made up, isn’t it?” she asked calmly, with a grin. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Picking up his bowl of miso soup, Shinjiro eyed her. He nodded before tilting the bowl back and taking a sip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm. Well, then, I’ll support you,” she said, amused. By now, Miyoko and Jinichi had stopped their fighting and were tuning into the conversation happening. “We should probably use today as time to buy supplies for you two.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Setting his bowl back down, he fixed a serious gaze on Xiulan. “How do you feel about it?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s great,” Xiulan admitted almost instantly. She laughed. “You’re right about Miyoko and I pulling most of the weight so far, you know. Heh. You can expect a lot to come into fruition once she and I are in charge.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was never in charge,” Shinjiro murmured. “Even so, it will probably be better to work without my reputation looming over your heads.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His rep—what? Reputation? Jinichi scrunched up his face when he heard these words. He looked to his sister, who said nothing and only gave him a side glance. Well. He didn’t like that one bit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re probably right,” Xiulan agreed. “Not to mention how you refuse to gather up your old followers.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This baffled Jinichi even more. Deciding to keep his mouth shut to avoid more arguing, he simply made a face and dove back into his breakfast. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro seemed to frown a bit, finally showing some semblance of emotion. “I know that I cannot force you to avoid them,” he began. “But if you do choose to seek them out...please, tread with caution.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As she was normally one to roll her eyes or scoff at such a notion, Shinjiro was surprised to see Xiulan nod at him in all seriousness. He smiled gratefully at her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once things had settled down, breakfast resumed. They discussed what kinds of supplies that Jinichi and Shinjiro ought to bring for their journey. Jinichi would undoubtedly benefit from buying a kimono—it would be convenient to travel with just one set of robes and a couple sets of innerwear. It might be able to help him appear less conspicuous out in rural communities, too, though his bright hair might negate any of that. It was worth a shot. Aside from that, some camping essentials would be a good idea, should they be in the wilderness some nights without an inn to stay at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Amazingly, most of the food on the table was gone by the time everyone began to feel full. Jinichi didn’t realize how much Xiulan and Shinjiro could eat. Well, good that no food was going to waste, he supposed. Everyone began to clear the table, but Shinjiro protested when Miyoko and Xiulan tried to help clean the dishes. Jinichi too, but Jinichi ignored him and got a sponge lathered with dish soap anyway. Shinjiro shooed the girls away, insisting that they relax and let the food settle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan shrugged happily. “Don’t have to tell me twice!” she sang. She turned to head back to her room, gesturing for Miyoko to come with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Following Xiulan back into her room, Miyoko scratched her arm. “Hey, listen...when we go out to help them shop for supplies, I want to talk to Shinjiro alone for a bit.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan turned to her with a smirk. “So you can give him some helpful tips on how to put up with your brother?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprised, Miyoko froze. “Y-Yeah,” she breathed, cracking an amused grin. “How’d you guess?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Trust me,” Xiulan began, opening her closet to rummage around for an outfit. “I was thinking the same thing. Jinichi’s gonna get an earful about how to survive a one-on-one trip with Shin.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko scoffed. “Shinjiro’s so well-mannered, though. I hardly think he’ll cause any trouble.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You regard him so highly,” Xiulan began. “So maybe that’s why you think that way. But I see a little bit of myself in Jinichi, you know. And trust me, Shin can be a pain in the ass for folks with my kind of personality.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko watched her pick out an outfit and laughed. “Well then, deal. We’ll both pull them aside for a bit of insider info today.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rolling her eyes with a smile, Xiulan gave her a knowing look. “Tch. What would they do without us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After dishes got cleaned, everyone took time to shower and put on some proper clothes, and then they set out for the nearby marketplace. On foot, it was about a twenty-minute walk. Sunny weather greeted them, but not without a slight breeze. They knew the market was close when foot traffic suddenly increased tenfold, and the smell of dashi and sesame oil wafted through the air. Bicycles and rickshaws dashed by, and vendors shouted over each other to advertise their products to as many passersby as they could. It wasn’t hectic so much as it was simply alive. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As Xiulan and Shinjiro knew the market better, Miyoko and Jinichi let them lead the way to where they would find most of the items they were looking for. Once they were past most of the food and grocery vendors, they took their time wandering through all the stores selling miscellaneous goods ranging from handcrafted furniture to basic household necessities. Jinichi stopped here and there to look through any racks of clothes or kimono that he found, but not feeling too keen on anything he saw. He did, however, find a pair of nice zori eventually. And for a steal, too. He supposed that he didn’t realize how cheaply the markets in the slums operated. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had stopped at one particular store for a while, which seemed to have a wide variety of goods. Shinjiro had started looking at the cooking supplies, while Jinichi had wandered over to the clothes. Xiulan and Miyoko hovered between them, browsing small electronics and devices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A kimono, huh,” Jinichi murmured, sifting through the garments on the rack. “It’s been so long since I’ve worn one. I guess this one’s fine. It looks my size.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hearing that he had picked one out, Xiulan glanced over. She regarded the bleak, dark gray robe he had fished out with a gasp. “That one?!” she exclaimed. “But Jinichi, it’s so...boring! You don’t dress like that at all. That’s really the one you want?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Surprised, Jinichi glanced at the kimono he was holding. “No. I don’t want it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan took the thing from his hands and put it back on the rack. “Then don’t waste your time. Let’s go find you something colorful—something beautiful and stylish, so that you’ll enjoy wearing it everyday.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For some reason, Jinichi found himself looking towards his sister and Shinjiro for approval. He supposed he saw their seriousness as having some authority on the whole supply-gathering stuff. As usual, Miyoko regarded him with a bit of hesitation. Shinjiro, always unable to read, simply blinked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I agree.” His words surprised Jinichi (but not Xiulan, who was grimacing as she looked through the rest of the drab, monochromatic kimonos). He offered a small, rare smile. “Follow Xiulan’s advice. Purchase robes you find appealing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Suddenly, Jinichi felt a tug on his arm. It was Xiulan. “Let’s check out someplace else. This store has nothing cute. I know a few good places.” Preparing to pull Jinichi along, Xiulan turned to the other two. “Jinichi and I are gonna do a little shopping spree. We’ll meet you two back here in an hour, OK?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro nodded. “Sure thing,” Miyoko said, acting nonchalant. They watched as the two sped off, Xiulan chattering away immediately. Then, they were left alone. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I assume there are some things you wished to tell me in private,” Shinjiro said right away, picking up various cooking tools to examine them.  He raised a brow at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s that easy to tell, huh?” Miyoko responded with a laugh, folding her arms over her chest. She heaved a light sigh. “Well, of course. You’re about to travel solo with my brother for...who knows how long. I felt that there were some things I could warn you about beforehand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Warn?” Shinjiro repeated. “Interesting word choice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko sighed. “Look, Jinichi, he...he’s stubborn, just like me. But on top of that, he’s defiant, and sassy, and playful,” she began, checking off the list in her head. “Basically what I’m saying is that he’s a handful. He can be overwhelming at times.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro turned to her, and flashed her a grateful smile with a slight bow of his head. “I appreciate this, Miyoko. However, I don’t forsee Jinichi causing any problems. After all, we will be focused on our objective rather than forging personal relations.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s exactly it,” Miyoko protested. “You have the ability to be objective like that. Jinichi just doesn’t. He’s going to become your best friend, or your worst enemy. He’ll ask you endless questions about who you are, and why you do what you do. I’m sure he’ll argue with you tons. That’s....that’s just how he is.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nodding in understanding, Shinjiro carefully put a pair of cooking chopsticks back in the basket they were displayed in. “You worry that he might get on my nerves.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right.” Miyoko watched as Shinjiro collected a wooden spatula and a rice paddle. “And I...I know Jinichi has some questionable opinions. But I think you might be able to convince him to change his mind, more than I’ve been able to. I just ask that you be patient until then. He has a good heart, so I’m sure—I hope—that he’ll come around eventually, after he sees things in a new light.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro’s mouth firmed into a straight line. He turned to Miyoko. “Unfortunately, because of what just happened to him, I think he’s already beginning to see things differently.” He paused, and Miyoko looked towards the ground as she thought. “I’m sure it will all be fine. Besides, what good am I to the cause if I can’t reason with opposition?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko flashed him a grin, but it quickly faded. “That’s another thing,” she murmured. “I hope you don’t feel obligated to help him find the scrolls because of what happened.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They regarded each other in earnest for a few moments. Eventually, Shinjiro began to nod his head, coming to term with his own thoughts on the matter. Miyoko watched him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I feel obligated to help him,” he began, “because I don’t see any other option. It isn’t related to what he went through.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko had no choice but to trust that he was being honest. She gave him a firm nod. Then, a smile. “Okay. Well, just be careful that he doesn’t get on your nerves too hard.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Returning her smile, Shinjiro replied, “I will do my best.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan knew the market like the back of her hand, and started on a direct path towards the boutique that she wanted Jinichi to try out. He walked along besides her, hardly able to look at all the vendors and their wares as they went by. He was certainly overwhelmed by all the products and all the people, but he was having a good time. The air constantly smelled of delicious foods being cooked somewhere around. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To tell you the truth, Jinichi, I actually have some things I wanted to tell you,” Xiulan began once they had buried themselves deep into the marketplace. She winked at Jinichi. “Some secret things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh? Well, sure,” Jinichi replied, interested. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s about Shinjiro. As someone who’s been living with him for a while, there’s lots of things I can tell you that might come in handy when you’re traveling with him.” Then, Xiulan stopped to point at a storefront that was displaying clothes, robes, and loose fabrics in all kinds of colors and patterns. She tugged Jinichi along. “That’s the place! Anyway—I totally agree with you calling Shin a brick wall. Like, no kidding.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi snickered. “I mean, the guy only says three words at a time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right?” Xiulan exclaimed. She sighed. “That’s exactly what I mean. He’s so lame like that most of the time. Don’t expect to get any entertainment out of him, unless you’re entertained by long talks about philosophy and politics. Or learning how to play traditional folk music on the shamisen.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Jinichi said, pulling a face. “Not really.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they entered the store, the old woman working the counter greeted them kindly. She and Xiulan greeted each other personally, and Jinichi realized that they must be close. His eyes already began to wander around, taking in all the beautiful things on display. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay, take your time and look around. And if you want anything customized, Miss Terashima can do it at no extra cost. Only because I’m her favorite customer,” Xiulan said to him, flashing a grin. “I’ll just keep telling you more things about Shin. Oh, another big one: he’s super awkward.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think he was raised in a laboratory or something, someplace without human interaction. Because sometimes I just wonder about him, with the way he says things. He’s painfully direct. And as formal as a Heian era prince.” Xiulan paused to pull out a kimono and examine it. “But, even though he’s direct, he always means well. He’ll never say something rude, unless he intends to hurt you. So that’s nice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hmm. I suppose.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He never talks about his feelings. Ever. If he’s feeling emotional, he’ll get a bottle of sake and play his shamisen, or feed birds, or do pushups. Or, in some cases, punch a dent into a stone wall,” she said, laughing as she raised her brows at Jinichi. “So that can be frustrating. But again, on the flipside, he’ll always listen to you talk about your own feelings. He’s very helpful in that regard.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Out of nowhere, Xiulan draped a kimono over Jinichi’s arm. He looked at it in surprise. For him to try on, he supposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If he likes you, or wants to say thanks, he won’t express it to your face. He’ll do other random shit instead.” Xiulan thought for a moment. “For example. I woke up one morning, and outside my door there was a tiny wood carving of a rabbit. I asked if it was his, and he said he made it for me because he appreciated me buying groceries the other day. One time, I helped him slash the tired on a police car and steal the parts to give them to a family whose car had broken down. In return for my help, he made me breakfast and took me out for dinner for two weeks straight. It’s really goofy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Kind of him, though,” Jinichi noted. “Albeit pretty extravagant.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hah, extravagant is right,” Xiulan agreed in amusement. “I guess he’s not comfortable with any other way of expressing gratitude. So, if he happens to do any of that sort of thing, just go with it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Guess I have no choice, right?” Jinichi laughed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan turned to him, already holding a pile of robes in her arms. She offered a broad smile. “Right. Bottom line is: Shinjiro is a really swell guy. Deep inside, he’s ver respectful, moral, and empathetic. He just has strange ways of showing it, which can get annoying real fast. So, just remember that, and you’ll be fine I think.” She wiggled the pile of clothes in her arms, and eyed the robes that Jinichi himself had gathered. “Ready for a quick fashion show? They’ve got a fitting room in the back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After putting all the robes they had picked out on a rack, Jinichi began to pick out the ones he actually wanted to try on. He tended to lean towards softer, lighter colors, and found himself doing so even now, with the kimono. They were definitely all women’s kimono. He pulled one off the rack to look at it, and then eyed Xiulan, who had seated herself on a chair to watch. He held the garment up to his body and turned to her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Do you really think it’s okay for me to wear a woman’s kimono?” he asked her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan sat, unmoving. She blinked. “Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah. I just wanted some validation,” he murmured, turning back to the rack immediately. He heard Xiulan giggle behind him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He eventually narrowed his choices down to four garments. That still meant a decent amount of time was going to be spent trying them on, since they were kimono after all. After putting on the robes of the first kimono, he stepped out of the fitting room so Xiulan could help him with the obi. He caught sight of himself in the full-body mirror, and found himself frozen with surprise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm? Something wrong?” Xiulan asked, noticing his expression. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no, I just…” Jinichi began, slowly turning this way and that. “It’s been so long since I’ve worn a kimono. I’d forgotten what I looked like.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan smiled at him. “Well, you look lovely.” She straightened out the obi, and Jinichi lifted his arms so she could begin tying it around his waist. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oof—a woman’s obi really sits this high up, doesn’t it?” he asked, feeling the compression around his ribcage. “And it’s so much thicker.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“To help you keep a proper posture,” Xiulan told him, continuing to wrap the fabric around him. “And make your legs look longer.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tch,” Jinichi scoffed. “They’re too far gone for that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan glanced at him after that comment. She frowned slightly, but said nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aaand, there! All done!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes, Xiulan took a few steps back to admire her work.  Jinichi finally put his arms down, looking himself up and down in the mirror. It was a nice garment. The fabric felt durable and well weighted, and the inner garments were soft against his skin. It was of far better quality than he’d ever owned. He turned to Xiulan.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s too red.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I was thinking the same thing,” Xiulan agreed. Both of them began to grin as she came over to untie his obi. A quick fashion show indeed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They repeated the same process twice more, going through two kimono that Xiulan had picked out. All of them were fantastic. It was getting hard to decide, especially knowing that customization was available. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And, you know, she just said nothing and ate the whole plate clean,” Xiulan said, finishing off a story she had been telling. She was tying the fourth and final obi around Jinichi’s waist. “It was the funniest thing, I swear.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, that sounds just like my sister,” Jinichi chuckled. “She’s such a freak.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan clucked her tongue. “You guys are so mean to each other.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Xiulan,” Jinichi began, turning his head so he could talk to her directly. “Do you have siblings?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh-huh. If you had any, you’d understand.” Jinichi turned back towards the mirror, smirking to himself. “You’ve only seen the tip of the iceberg, you know. Our bickering is nothing.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan shook her head, grinning in amusement. “I’m sure I’ll hear about it in time. Aha, and...there we go. Done!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once more, Xiulan stepped back to look him over. And Jinichi looked at himself in the mirror before turning to face her. “Whaddya think?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, Jinichi.” Xiulan’s eyes had widened, and she held a hand delicately to her mouth. “Jinichi, this is it. This is the one.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>In the hour or so that they were alone, Miyoko and Shinjiro had done an efficient job at picking up miscellaneous supplies around the market. Shinjiro had picked out an incredibly basic set of cookware—purely the bare essentials. A pot, small pan, chopsticks, a spatula, and a ladle. He bought a couple of bowls and cups as well. They also found tiny single-person tents that rolled up into a small, convenient pack. They found some blankets, and two pillows. At a thrift store, they found a nice pair of binoculars, a compass, and canteens, all in good shape and incredibly cheap. Finally, they got waterproof tarp bags and satchels to hold everything in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They hauled everything back to the checkpoint where they had agreed to meet back with Xiulan and Jinichi. They were only there for a few moments, chatting quietly, before the pair in question appeared in the crowd and coming in their direction. They saw Xiulan swinging a large bag, and Shinjiro recognized the label printed on its side. From that boutique she always went to. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ahh, hello boys,” Xiulan greeted once she came to a stop. “Did you guys get everything you were looking for?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro nodded. “I believe so.” He looked at his bags, and Miyoko’s. “I suppose our next step is to gather personal belongings.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Psh, Shin, you’ve got like, </span>
  <em>
    <span>one </span>
  </em>
  <span>personal belonging,” Xiulan scoffed. “And it’s a copy of </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Tale of Genji </span>
  </em>
  <span>or something lame like that. Let’s get dinner instead, I’m hungry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine literature,” Shinjiro murmured in defense. “Even so. I’m sure Jinichi has many things he’d like to pack. Let’s allow him some time to do that, and then get together for dinner. How does that sound?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine.” Xiulan grunted. She elbowed Jinichi. “You’re holding up my dinner, so you’d better hurry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi stuck his tongue out at her.</span>
  <em>
    <span> Seems like somebody’s bonded,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Miyoko thought to herself, watching them and holding in a laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Would it be best for us to bring his stuff to dinner with us?” Miyoko asked. “That way we can head straight back to your guys’ place and spend the night again.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan and Shinjiro exchanged a glance, and Xiulan gave a careless shrug. “Sounds good to me!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Xiulan and Shinjiro took all of the wares they bought and went off to find a rickshaw to haul it back home. Miyoko and Jinichi went off to find a bus or a taxi that could take them back to the district where their apartment was. They exchanged very few words on the way there, and Miyoko was worried about her usually chatty brother. But he seemed to be in a fine mood. Even a bit giddy, she noticed. Maybe he just didn’t know what to be chatty about today. There were so many things to choose from, after all. Miyoko’s mind was swimming with all that was going on, and she could only imagine how he must be feeling. She decided to let it be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once they got to their apartment, they shuffled into Jinichi’s room. He flipped on the lights and dug his favorite backpack out of his closet. It was a sporty looking yellow canvas backpack, with some keychains dangling off the zippers. He also fished out a laundry bag that he could use to pack socks and underwear and the like. He did that first, with Miyoko over his shoulder barking at him to pack light, and him replying with yeah yeah yeahs. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he looked around his room, surveying things to see what items he truly wanted to bring along. He went along his shelves, in his closet, through his drawers, looking for things that he might want to bring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Cologne?” he asked, holding up a bottle. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No.” Miyoko’s firm response. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Light-up wand from Disneyland?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Idiot.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Alarm clock?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Um, don’t think so. No.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“MP3 player?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And the process went on like this. Jinichi picked out odds and ends, such as his journal and some writing tools, a slim photo album, a disposable camera, and a couple of unopened bags of candy. He stood in front of his bookshelf, scrutinizing his collection to see if there was anything he wanted to bring. He clicked his tongue as he pulled out a book. “How about this?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Miyoko looked over. It took her a second to register the cover image of a suited man standing behind a woman, sliding a hand under her skirt as she seductively pressed against his chest—an erotic manga. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She snatched it and threw it at his head. “Fucking pervert!” she shouted. “You’re not going on this journey to jack off!”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ow! Hey, what the fuck!” Jinichi yelled back, clutching his head where the book hit him and crouching in pain. Huffing, he snatched the manga up from the floor and brushed it off. “Whatever, I’m gonna jack off with or without it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re disgusting.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What? It’s natural,” he muttered, glaring at his sister over his shoulder. He put the manga back on his shelf. “As if I don’t hear the bzzt bzzt bzzzzt of your vibrator every other night.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Unbearable</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” Miyoko screeched. “You’re unbearable, Jinichi! I feel so, so bad for Shinjiro.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tch. Like he won’t be doing it, too,” Jinichi muttered. He turned back to his shelf, picking out a different manga. “Fine. If you don’t like </span>
  <em>
    <span>A Corporate Mistress’s Fantasy Love</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I’ll bring </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Mysterious Summer Romance of Kentaro</span>
  </em>
  <span> instead.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went to the bathroom to grab his toiletries. As he piled everything in his backpack, he wondered how long all of his products would last before he ran out. Oops. Well, he would just have to make some new batches if the time came. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, he was ready. He stood in the doorway to his room, giving everything one last glance to make sure he didn’t miss anything. It didn’t seem so. Standing there, he began to feel a bit odd. It hadn’t set in quite yet, that he was leaving home to go spelunking in the woods with a random guy for an undisclosed amount of time. What a strange, strange concept that was. Maybe that’s why it didn’t feel so real. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deciding not to think about it much longer, he killed the lights and closed the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Together, the twins made their way back to the district which Xiulan and Shinjiro lived in. From the bus stop, Miyoko hailed a rickshaw to take them to the restaurant that they had agreed to meet at. It was Chinese hotpot, and apparently Xiulan and Shinjiro’s favorite place to eat. Jinichi had never gotten around to trying Chinese hotpot. He had always been too intimidated by the dark red chili broth, worried that his mild Japanese palate wouldn’t be able to handle it. But he supposed the time would’ve come, eventually. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They met the pair outside the restaurant, where Xiulan waved them over. She led the way inside the restaurant, and Shinjiro held the door for the twins. The familiar face of Mr. Yamazaki greeted them, who was surprised to see them with guests. Instead of their usual table, which only seated two, Mr. Yamazaki showed them to a table for four. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They all sat down, Xiulan and Shinjiro across from the twins. They ordered the usual hotpot, but today ordered gyoza and cucumber salad as additional sides. As routinely as ever, Mr. Yamazaki brought out a giant steel pot, filled with soup, and set it on the burner that was inlaid on the table. He lit the flames, and was off to gather their add-ins. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then, Jinichi burst into tears. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tears came very suddenly and out of nowhere. It probably shocked Jinichi the most out of everyone. His body suddenly lurched inwards, his shoulders caved in, and from his chest came deep sobs. Miyoko bolted in her seat, rushing to take a gentle hold of her brother’s arms. But nearly as soon as he started sobbing, he also began to laugh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he breathed, holding up a wobbly smile. He sniffled, wiped his eyes, yet his body jerked with another sob. “I-I don’t know why I’m...crying all of a sudden. Oh, this i-is so awkward.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you okay?” Miyoko asked, urgent but gentle. Xiulan looked at him with immense worry, covering her hands with her mouth. Shinjiro glanced at him with a slightly bowed head, but looked mostly at an empty space on the table. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, I’m f-fine, just...just trying not to think about—” he choked out, his words muddled with laughs and sobs, “—about it.” Just the admittal of what he was thinking of made him cry harder. He covered his face and apologized, apologized for making things so awkward, for making everyone watch him cry suddenly. Somehow, he was still laughing here and there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His sister rubbed his back, and handed him a napkin to use as a tissue. “Don’t apologize, Jin-chan. No one minds.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi sputtered into laughter for a moment, uncovering his face to take the napkin. “How can you not mind?” he asked. “I randomly burst into tears while we’re at a restaurant. Of course you mind.”      </span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a few moments, there was silence as Jinichi pulled himself together a bit. Xiulan offered a heartfelt smile, shaking her head in the slightest with a laugh. He was right, of course. How shocking and awkward it was. Miyoko eventually showed a small smile, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Cry when we get back to the house,” Shinjiro began, his somewhat harsh words betraying the soft tone of his voice. Jinichi looked up at him judgmentally, despite his sniffling. Shinjiro winced, suddenly realizing how he sounded. He quickly added, “So you can cry as long and as hard as you need to. In a comfortable and private setting, with or without all of us there with you. Where you...don’t have to laugh to mask your real emotions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a pause, Jinichi slowly nodded, letting go of his judgmental expression. He remembered what Xiulan told him just earlier that day, about Shinjiro’s unusual social skills and strange emotional coping mechanisms. He supposed this was exactly what she meant. He nodded again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” he said, wiping his eyes one final time. “Haha. Yeah, thanks Shinjiro. I’ll do that.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just then, Xiulan let out an enormous breath. “I swear to god, you almost gave me a heart attack, you baboon,” she complained, giving Shinjiro a side-eye. He seemed to get a bit flustered, and looked down at his lap. Just then, Mr. Yamazaki brought over plates of cabbage, bean sprouts, sliced meat, mushrooms, and so much more. The soup in the pot was coming to a nice boil as well. Picking up chopsticks, Xiulan pointed them at the red half of the broth, wiggling her brows at Jinichi. “Wanna see something that’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>really </span>
  </em>
  <span>make you cry? Wait til you try this, Jinichi.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi laughed, a genuine laugh, and Miyoko finally slid her hand from his arm after giving him one last pat. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The dinner went just as Jinichi had predicted: he tried one bite of beef boiled in the chili broth, and knew he wouldn’t be having anymore. Xiulan laughed at him, and he laughed at himself. She drank some of the broth from a spoon, just to show off, and he blissfully drank water to cool his mouth down. He took the rest of his pickings from the cream-colored broth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After they had finished up and became full and satisfied, Shinjiro paid for the whole table and they got up to leave. By the exit on the wall was the collection of missing persons posters that had concerned Xiulan and Shinjiro so deeply not that long ago. Since they had walked into the restaurant with their backs facing it, Jinichi hadn’t noticed it when they entered. He couldn’t help but stop and stare. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So many faces. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So many faces, in fact, that there were faces hidden underneath those faces. Probably, there were faces underneath those, too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes slowly traveled to each and every one of them. Children. Teens. Elderly. Mothers, fathers. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He did not find Hyunsoo’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unable to offer anything but a frown, he slowly left them and joined his friends who were waiting outside. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. First Arc: Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Just as Shinjiro had suggested, Jinichi certainly did cry that night. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They used the same sleeping arrangement as the other night, where the girls were in Xiulan’s room, Shinjiro was in the tatami room, and Jinichi used Shinjiro’s room. Jinichi lay awake in the futon once again, though this time his throat was sore and his eyes puffy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the hotpot dinner, they had stopped in at a convenience store to pick up some drinks. They’d all spent quite a long time staying up, just drinking and talking with one another. At one point, Jinichi began to listen much more than speak. Soon, he was only listening. Then, he politely excused himself and announced that he would get ready for bed and lay down. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tears did not come at first, although he wanted them to burst like they had at the restaurant. He wanted to get them out. But things weren’t that easy, he reminded himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He laid down. He rolled on his side and curled up a bit. That way, he felt more miserable. He spent a while examining his hands, thinking about the power they held. The power that he’d swept under the rug for so long. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It took him a moment to realize that he’d become teary-eyed. When he did realize it, he finally began to cry.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>First, he cried for Hyunsoo. Oh, how he missed his friend. But it was so much more than just missing him. He felt grief, and regret, and anger. Could he have done something to prevent this? He should have. He didn’t know what, but he should’ve done something. Where was Hyunsoo now—oh, god, where on earth was he? Who had him? What were they doing to him? He should’ve done something. He was doing something now, but maybe it was too late.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Then he cried for Xiulan, and Shinjiro. He cried for his sister. And he cried for all the humans they wanted to help, that they were trying to help. He cried for their families. He cried for Xiulan, who couldn’t use any sage magic, but was doing her best to fight for her kind regardless. He cried for Shinjiro, who was gentle towards him despite him being an ignorant asshole, and who was now volunteering to help him find the Celestial Scrolls. And he cried for his poor, poor sister, who had tried to tell him about all of this so many times. Oh how he hadn’t listened. He had been so, so terribly ignorant. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grumbling at the throbbing of his head, Jinichi looked out the window that he had woken to, just the other night. It was the same. A bright moon, crickets chirping, and a whispering breeze. Jinichi pulled his knees closer to his chest. He didn’t want to, but he knew he had to—he looked at the wound on his inner thigh. He looked at it long and hard, and the longer he looked at it, the more furiously his brows knitted together and the more forcefully he gritted his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, Jinichi cried for himself.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The normally pale white panels of the shoji screens had turned golden pink with the rise of the sun. Shinjiro opened his eyes and sat up, looking around the tatami room. He could hear the sparrows outside, chirping as they went about their morning routine. He raised his arms over his head and heaved a deep stretch, and pushed all his hair behind his shoulders. He slipped the hair tie off his wrist and wove his hair into a bun. Hm. Big day today, he supposed. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got up quietly, folding away his futon and pushing it against the wall. In the kitchen, he brought out a plastic tub full of dried breadcrumbs and took it out to the backyard, where he tossed a few pinches towards the shrubs that the sparrows lived in. They flew out immediately, pittering around the grass and pecking at the tiny white morsels. He watched them for a moment before putting the plastic tub down and finding some room in the grass to stand. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>First things first: warming up. He clasped his hands together and pushed them out away from him, feeling the muscles and joints in his back opening up. Slowly, he raised them over his head and felt a similar sensation all along his spine and abdomen. Finally, he swung his arms behind him, clasping his hands again, relaxing his chest. He rolled his head this way and that. He bent his knees gently, bouncing on them a few times, and rolled his ankles in circles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He went over to the stone wall that lined their backyard, which was deteriorating in many places and now even more damaged due to his outburst the other day. He pressed his back against that exact spot and slid down until he was doing a wall sit. He lifted one leg, extending it out away from him in order to do the exercise with a single leg. He watched the sparrows as he counted the minutes in his head. He switched legs, again counting the minutes. Then he stood up and went back to the center of the yard, lying on the ground to do sit-ups. One hundred was fine dor today. Then he added on fifty more, twisting to the right, and fifty more twisting to the left. He rolled over and pushed his body up into a plank position. Again, he watched the sparrows. There was that one with the unusual patch of white on top of its head, like a tiny drop of paint. That one hadn’t appeared until just a few months ago—a new baby, he’d assumed. He counted the minutes once more. He felt a bead of sweat roll down his temple. He rather disliked planking. It was quite boring. After twelve minutes had passed, he decided that was enough. He segued straight into push-ups, dropping down one hundred times with perfect ninety-degree angles at his elbows. He placed one arm behind his back and did fifty more repetitions, and did the same for the other arm. And so on. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A slight throbbing in his head had caused Jinichi to stir into waking. As he lay there, he took note of how utterly congested his nose and front of his brain seemed to feel. No doubt from crying himself to sleep. He was acquainted with the sensation. The clock on the wall listed the time at around eight o’clock. It wasn’t a bad time to get up, and maybe make some tea—that would help him feel better. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He got up and tousled his messy hair. Sliding the door open, he saw that the door across the hall to Xiulan’s room was still closed. He continued on quietly, his feed padding along the hardwood floor. He saw, however, that the tatami room was open and empty, and a futon was folded up against the wall. Eh, Shinjiro was an early riser he supposed. In the kitchen, he easily located a teapot, but didn’t want to rummage through all the drawers and cabinets to find tea. He decided to see if Shinjiro was around to ask him, instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuffled out to the backyard, squinting in the sunlight as he stood on the engawa. A bit chilly this morning, he realized, as he crossed his arms over his chest. In the middle of the yard, he saw Shinjiro standing upright. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wait, no. He was...upside down? Jinichi held up a hand to shade his eyes from the sun, and saw that Shinjiro was indeed upside down. He was doing a handstand. His eyes were closed, and he was perfectly still. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, such a weirdo,” Jinichi murmured to himself. He rapped his knuckle against a wooden post, knocking loud enough for Shinjiro to hear. He opened his eyes, and Jinichi gave a slight wave. He stepped down from the engawa and headed over. “Hi. Can I make some tea? I don’t know where you keep it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro eyed him from below. “Cabinet above the sink.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay.” Jinichi stood there for a moment, then pointed his finger towards Shinjiro’s legs. “What happens if I just...poke you...will you fall over?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro closed his eyes again. “Undoubtedly.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah, to feel such power. But Jinichi decided to save playing god for another day. He put his hand down and walked away, back into the house. He opened the cabinet above the sink, finding an unexpectedly wide array of various teas. Many of which were Chinese teas that he didn’t recognize. He picked out a simple sencha and set some water to heat up, gathering two cups and a tray in the meantime. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After the tea had brewed, Jinichi brought everything out to the engawa. He seated himself and set the tray down next to him, pouring out a cup. Just the steam rising onto his face made him feel better. The first sip was heavenly. He let his shoulders relax and heaved a deep sigh. Now, Shinjiro was doing a handstand with just one arm. Jinichi watched in silence as his arm bent, lowering the rest of his body, and then extended again and pushed his body back up. A handstand push-up? Jinichi shrugged. Hell if he knew. He looked instead at the plants, and the rooftops of other houses peeking out above the stone wall that lined the yard. Telephone wires criss-crossed the lower half of the sky. In the near distance, crows cawed in agitation at each other. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Even though he was setting out on some sort of fateful journey dictated by destiny, Jinichi didn’t feel particularly moved. Moved enough, he supposed, but nothing to be overwhelmed about. He’d kind of had this childish idea that maybe when he accepted his fate as a Celestial Sage and set out to find the ancient scrolls, something ultra cool might happen, like a colorful meteor shower, or a stardust halo appearing around his head. But of course, nothing of the sort happened and never would. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>...Could this whole thing turn out to be a wild goose chase, a fruitless waste of time? His thoughtful eyes wandered back to Shinjiro, who was back on two hands instead of one. In a quick movement, he bent backwards and jumped to his feet. Well, it seemed like Shinjiro had faith in their efforts. Jinichi knew that he did, too, though it was easy to look at things from the surface and judge them as silly mythical daydreams that would lead to nothing meaningful. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Shinjiro came over, Jinichi noticed that he had worked up quite a sweat. He sat on the other side of the tea tray, pouring himself a cup and drinking it down. Jinichi looked at the spiraling clouds on his arm, weaving around the face of a hannya and a skeleton in samurai’s armor. Eugh. Creepy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are we going?” he blurted out. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro looked up in surprise. “Towards the mountains, I thought.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi pushed a hand into his hair. “Which mountain. Japan has so many mountains.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, that’s what we have to figure out, right?” Shinjiro finished off the last of what was in his cup. “Your ancestors never disclosed the precise location. We’re going to try our best to find where their scrolls are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There are mountains all over, all of them with dozens of shrines and temples devoted to the Celestian Sages,” Jinichi argued, his eyes widening. “Those scrolls could be anywhere. Anywhere!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sensing the rising panic in his voice, Shinjiro set his cup down. “Are you alright?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just peachy!” Jinichi snapped, staring in disbelief at Shinjiro. Then, he closed his eyes and sighed. “Sorry.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro looked down at his lap. “You’ve been through so much, in such a short amount of time, Jinichi. It was silly of me to ask such a question.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Having his best friend swept away suddenly, without warning, without context, and without any clear directions for how to find him. Being attacked by an animalistic police officer, alone in the darkness and the rain. Then, dropping life as he knew it to embark on a questionable journey to find long lost artifacts, along with a person he barely knew. Shinjiro’s shoulders caved inward as he heaved a sigh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, that’s right. I brought something for you.” Jinichi began to stand. “I’ll be right back.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In contemplative silence, Shinjiro waited for Jinichi to return. While he sat, he tossed more crumbs out to the sparrows, who came fluttering out as if on command. He regarded their stoutness. Hm. Maybe they would lose some weight once their feeding was left to Xiulan and the wilderness. Jinichi came back in just a couple minutes, seating himself again and holding out a glass bottle towards Shinjiro. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here. It’s a medicine from my shop,” he explained. “It has willow bark and cloves, to relieve pain and inflammation. And rhubarb to help the scarring process. And a bit of ethanol of course, for disinfectant.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Curiously, Shinjiro took the bottle. It was filled with with a brown liquid, speckled with bits of plant matter. There was a simple label stuck to the front, which listed the ingredients and the business information of what he presumed was Jinichi’s store. He looked up. “You made it..?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi nodded. “Yup. Grew the plants, cultivated the needed parts, and figured out the proper ratio.” He handed over a couple of cotton balls, too. “Applying it two or three times a day would be best.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro took the cotton balls with a nod. “Thank you,” he said. Jinichi shrugged indifferently. He set the supplies down to start undressing his wounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Raw, moist, and mealy. A colorful display of red blood, pink flesh, white and yellow pus, and purple bruising. Jinichi could see the veins on the backs of his hands pulsating with the effort of rushing fresh blood and nutrients to the wounds. The entire messy apparatus moved and squished as Shinjiro twisted the bottle open and soaked a cotton ball. He dabbed the solution on his opened skin, and Jinichi could practically feel the intense burn from the ethanol in his bones. But Shinjiro did not flinch or bat an eye. He soaked his wounds deep and thorough. The veins on his hands swelled, reacting to the ethanol. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hand wounds take a long time to heal if you’re not careful,” Jinichi warned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Shinjiro nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few moments, Jinichi looked out towards the sky. He sat back, propping himself up on outstretched arms behind him. “If we head northeast, we’ll hit the mountains in no time. Guess that’s where we should start, huh?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. We can easily reach the mountainous region by the end of the day via train.” Shinjiro agreed. “But, as for navigating the mountain paths…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi scoffed harshly. “Ironic, isn’t it? The descendant of the Celestial Sages being a fucking cripple. I’m sure they’re rolling in their graves.” Jinichi scrutinized the feasting sparrows. Bet they didn’t give their ability of flight a second thought. “I dunno. Rent an ox to pull me along in a wagon, like a sack of rice.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s when Shinjiro’s face lit up with an idea. “Horses.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure, it can be a horse. A cow, too. Maybe even a few strong goats.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, I mean horses to ride,” Shinjiro clarified. “We wont put you in the back of a wagon. We can take horses up and down the mountains, and all through the woods.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi turned to him. “That’s not a bad idea, actually,” he admitted. “They can tote all our stuff, too. That could work, yeah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>From inside the house, they heard some stirring. Doors sliding open and closed, footsteps, murmuring voices. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s make that our goal for the day, then.” Shinjiro declared. “We can purchase them today and pick them up tomorrow.”   </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bit absentmindedly, it seemed, Jinichi nodded. “Sure.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro eyed him, but said nothing. Then, Xiulan appeared behind them from inside the house. “There you guys are,” she observed. “Ready for your epic adventure? By the way, Shin, I’m hungry. Be a doll and cook up some breakfast, would you?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rice, miso soup, and tea was laid out for everyone. Shinjiro also steamed some spinach and garnished it with ground sesame and miso. There was cold tofu topped with grated radish, soy sauce, and green onions. Finally, some toast with ham and cream cheese. Everyone ate well, save for Jinichi who was mostly pushing the seaweed around in his soup. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Of course, everyone noticed. “Jin-chan, you can’t start today on an empty stomach,” Miyoko chided. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Jinichi replied plainly. He said nothing more, and made no moves to put food into his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is my cooking that horrid?” Shinjiro asked in a murmur. “I’m afraid you’ll have to get used to it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Was that...a joke? Did he just make a joke? It was the least funny, most strange and inexplicably pitiful joke that Jinichi had ever heard. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Ha!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” he exclaimed, slapping his knee for emphasis. “Haha! Haha, haha. You’re funny! No, your cooking is splendid.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi lifted his bowl of rice to his face, scooping it into his mouth like a ravenous child might. “Stage one: deinal,” Xiulan muttered, sipping her tea. Shinjiro cast her a reproachful gaze. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To not prolong the breakfast, but mostly to not keep everyone worried and focused on him, Jinichi hastily finished all of his food. It sat in his knotted stomach like a stone. The day began to unfold, and Jinichi helped wash dishes and put them away. Shinjiro got in the shower. Miyoko and Xiulan set about making notes of contact information, with the phone numbers of both their homes, as well as mailbox addresses. Shinjiro finished his shower and changed into his robes. Jinichi washed his face and began to put on his new robes. The house was buzzing with busybody energy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the dining table, Shinjiro had laid out his naginata to wrap the bladed end securely in a thick cloth that he used for this very purpose. He tied the cloth in place with a silken cord, and it was finished. The supplies he had packed sat on the floor next to the table—cookware, clothing basics, tents and bedding, and some of his personal belongings. In a pile next to that was what Jinichi had packed, including his out-of-place backpack. It seemed that they were pretty much ready to set out, as soon as Jinichi was finished changing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro sat at the table, making last minute checks to be sure that his weapon was securely sheathed. Xiulan stood behind him, leaning over his shoulder to watch. And Miyoko stood near the supplies, looking over it all to make sure they had everything they needed. They all heard the sliding door that signaled Jinichi’s completion of getting changed. Xiulan grinned to herself in anticipation. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Jinichi entered the doorway, the room became silent. He noticed right away, and looked up at everyone with surprise, an embarrassed smile on his face. “What, am I that stunning?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, this was the kimono that he had picked out with Xiulan the other day. It wasn’t an ordinary kimono either, no—it was a</span>
  <em>
    <span> furisode</span>
  </em>
  <span>. With one of his hands on the doorframe, one of the long, elegant sleeves could be seen in its entirety. The garment was mostly a milky cream color, but faded to a gentle pink towards the bottom. Delicate floral embroidery spanned the length of his sleeves, as well as the front of the robe, in soft tones of dandelion yellow and sky blue. The obi, which he had tied himself today—and, quite well, he might add—was a light minty green, almost matching his hair to the exact hue. It was patterned with the outlines of camellia flowers, in the same cream color of the body of the robe. The additional sashes, as well as the undergarments, were the same pink found at the bottom of the robe. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Yes, actually,” Miyoko breathed, looking her brother up and down from head to toe. She came over to him and lifted one of his arms, examining the detail of the embroidery and the fabric. She let his arm drop with a whistle of awe. She tugged on his obi. Nice and snug. “Jinichi, it’s fantastic.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Thinking about the clear elephant in the room, Xiulan raised her brows. “Miyoko,” she started, getting her girlfriend’s attention. “You’re not surprised at all?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The twins exchanged a glance. “Not really,” Miyoko answered. “Jinichi and I have been swapping clothes for years. I guess neither of us really cares about gendered clothing at this point. Although…” She took a step back, looking Jinichi over. “I suppose a furisode is pretty unmistakable, isn’t it? You’re okay with that, Jin-chan?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lifting his arms to look down at his clothes, Jinichi eventually shrugged. “No one’s gonna know who I am, besides that guy,” he said, pointing to Shinjiro, who had yet to say anything. Then, he grinned playfully and put up two fists, as if he were preparing for a fight. “Besides, if anyone wants to say shit to me, they’ll have to get past these bad boys first.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re weaker than wet paper,” Miyoko grunted, swatting his fists away. “Just keep your wits about you, Jin-chan. You know how country folk are.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh. Yeah I know, sis. Hey!” he suddenly called, over to Shinjiro. “If some uneducated hick says something about my furisode, you’d beat them up, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Shinjiro still hadn’t said anything, nor had he moved. He sat totally frozen in his chair, staring at Jinichi’s obi. Well, more like staring right through it. He didn’t seem totally there. Jinichi waved at him, snapped to get his attention, but neither worked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ooo-kay,” Jinichi said eventually, raising his brows and looking back towards the girls. “Looks like I might have to learn how to fight after all.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Angrily, Xiulan smacked the back of Shinjiro’s head. He flinched, finally coming out of his trance. “I don’t think there’s a more fitting kimono in the whole world,” she told Jinichi, who waved his long sleeves happily. “Anyone who says otherwise is just miserable and pathetic.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I,” Shinjiro finally uttered, still frozen like a stone. He looked at Jinichi somewhat gravely. There was a long stretch of silence. “...Yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Great!” Jinichi sang sarcastically, clasping his hands together. “Perfect. Thanks for your input, Shinjiro. I feel much better.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They began to get all of their supplies together: Jinichi slung his backpack on, which was amazingly able to look somewhat cute with his furisode. He carried the small bag of cookware with one arm, and used his cane with the other. Shinjiro hoisted his naginata, and all the rest of the supplies, over his shoulders. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I will call tonight to make sure the phone is in working order,” Shinjiro told Xiulan and Miyoko as they stood at the door. “And to check in with things.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tonight, eh? Better hope we aren’t in the middle of something,” Xiulan joked with a wink, forcing Miyoko’s face to a furious red blush. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro paused. “Did you have plans?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sex! She’s talking about fucking, you bozo!” Jinichi groaned, shoving the oblivious Shinjiro.But it seemed to have the adverse effect, as Shinjiro remained upright and it was Jinichi who seemed to tumble a bit. He scoffed. “C’mon, let’s get out of here and let ‘em go at it.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...Oh,” Shinjiro said. He scratched his temple. “Well, I suppose. Alright, we’ll be off, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They left with the sight of Xiulan dropping her face into her palm. Miyoko, despite her blush, bowed at their departure. Jinichi waved, and Shinjiro nodded before closing the door behind him. The weather was much cooler today, and the realization set in that it had truly become autumn. The walk to the nearest train station wasn’t too far, and they soon found themselves in a train car and rattling on through the city. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Despite their baggage and supplies, Jinichi saw as he looked around that they didn’t stand out as much as he’d thought. Plenty of people were hauling items with them on the train. Plenty of them had weapons, too, though none of them appeared as fearsome as Shinjiro’s naginata. Jinichi was sitting, with the cooking supplies in his lap. A baby in the tired arms of his mother next to him was staring at him, drooling. Babies like pretty things, he told himself. Shinjiro was standing in front of him, holding onto one of the rings that hung from the car’s ceiling. He was looking out the window. What a dense guy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They traversed train after train, eventually leaving the capitol and heading into the surrounding suburban and rural areas. Before long, Jinichi noticed familiar countryside scenery passing by outside. He made a face. He didn’t much care for it. Within a few hours, they had traveled to the point where the train station they disembarked at was tiny, unmanned, without air-conditioning, and almost totally deserted. The timetable indicated that the next train would be arriving in nearly an hour. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, we’re out in the sticks now, aren’t we?” Jinichi remarked, turning away from the timetable. The air smelled like waning sunshine and drying grass. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So it seems,” Shinjiro agreed. “It’s nearing five o’clock. Shall we end here for today?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi nodded in the opposite direction. “I think so—look, plenty of horses around.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the direction that Jinichi indicated was a fenced off yard where several stallions were grazing lazily. They flicked their tails. As if on queue, the smell of hay wafted over. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They first found an inn close to the station in what appeared to be the town’s main financial district. Jinichi entered first, greeting the elderly desk staff enthusiastically. He was surprised when Shinjiro promptly paid for two rooms, setting the money into the tray at the desk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I can pay my half, you know—” Jinichi began, but Shinjiro shook his head. Taken by surprise, Jinichi eventually offered a bow. “Well, thanks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The staff gave them each a key, as well as a pair of slippers to wear around the inn. “No onsen,” Shinjiro muttered as they put their shoes away and put on the slippers instead. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hah, well if we’re heading into the mountains, you’ll get your fill of onsen in no time,” Jinichi laughed, leading the way down the hall to their rooms. “They won’t let you in, though. Not with those tattoos of yours.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mngh,” Shinjiro simply grunted in response. They came to the door for Jinichi’s room, and he took the cooking supplies from Jinichi so he could open the door with more ease. It was nothing more than a simple tatami room, fitted with an AC unit and accompanying bathroom. Jinichi took the cooking supplies back and placed them on the floor near the door. They did the same for Shinjiro’s room, where he unloaded all of the remaining supplies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they left the inn, once again entering the sleepy town, Shinjiro suddenly stopped walking. “We don’t know where to locate a horse breeder,” he realized. “Should we ask the desk staff for suggestions?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pfft,” Jinichi laughed. “You really were raised a rich boy, weren’t you? We can just stroll up to any old farm and ask if they sell. If they don’t, they’ll point us to a farm that does.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro heeded his words, nodding with what seemed like a bit of embarrassment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first farm they came upon was the one that Jinichi had spotted from the station. They found an old man piling heaps of twigs and other debris into the back of a beat up pickup truck, wiping sweat from his brow with a dirty glove. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me,” Jinichi called out to him. “Are you the owner of this farm, by chance?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Hearing a voice addressing him, the man turned to them. He looked Jinichi up and down, then glanced at Shinjiro who was trailing along silently behind him. “Sure am,” he replied, looking at them a bit warily. “Somethin’ I can help with?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi pointed to the horses that were grazing out in the field. “We were wondering if you’ve got horses for sale.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Nope, them ain’t mine originally,” the farmer replied. He cleared his throat, then lodged a ball of spit into the dirt. “Bought ‘em from another guy in town.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi gave the slightest bow, clearly out of formality more so than actual respect. “Could you give us the information of the seller?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The farmer eyed them again, staring especially at Shinjiro’s weapon. “Sure,” he finally said, holding back whatever remark he had. He told them the name of the farmer, as well as the directions to the farm from the spot they were at. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they left, Jinichi seemed to have some sort of moodiness clouding over him. Shinjiro remained silent about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After about half an hour, they came upon the farm that they had been directed to. Chickens squabbled about the entrance, and cattle filed the field they passed as they wandered around to find the owner. Walls of stacked hay lay around everywhere, as did tractors and other such farming equipment. Shinjiro found himself looking around as if he were sightseeing, and quickly turned his head to the path before him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the entry to an open barn, Jinichi knocked on the giant wooden doors. “Hello?” he called out. “Is anyone around? We were recommended to come here to buy horses.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few moments, a figure popped out from one of the stables. It was another old man, outfitted in similar clothes to the other farmer. Though, he seemed to look at them less judgmentally. In fact, he seemed quite jolly upon their arrival. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Buying horses, you say? I’m your guy,” he declared, coming towards them with a toothy grin. He bowed fervently at the both of them. “Let me show you to the horse stables. Follow me on over here.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Led by the old farmer, Jinichi and Shinjiro were led through the barn into a long stretch of open stables where cows, goats, and sheep seemed to be lazing around. Finally, they came to the section which housed horses. Many strong-looking stallions poked their heads over the stable doors with interest, softly whinnying and pawing at the dirt. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a browse, long as you want,” the farmer said, tossing his hand out at the stables around them. “I got the best horses around, ‘specially if you’re wantin’ ones for ridin’ or racin’. All of my stallions here got strong genes. I promise ya.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The farmer sat on a stool, watching Jinichi and Shinjiro as they wandered. Jinichi pet the snouts of horses as he walked by, but didn’t seem to pay any of them much attention. Instead, he wandered past the stables and into view of the open pastures, where he saw many other horses grazing. They were short, stout, and dark brown—classic traits of typical Japanese horses. They moved around slowly, plodding their stubby legs around as they ate and interacted with one another. He found himself grinning, and leaned against the fence to watch their slow movements. When he finally wandered back into the stables, he found the farmer pitching a sale to a clueless Shinjiro, standing in front of a stable. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A guy like you wants a good, strong racehorse, right?” he overheard the farmer saying. “A good stallion with strong spirit, strong legs. Nice and tall, with a beautiful coat to show off. Good tempered, well-trained and obedient. This one here’s a perfect match, I promise ya.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How much for one of the horses in the pasture?” Jinichi interrupted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The farmer turned to him, looking somewhat irritated and even disappointed. “Them are just some old mares,” he said. “You don’t want none of those. You want a stallion, like this one here. Ya see?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi looked defiantly at the farmer. “I want a calm horse that does well with mountain navigation and packing supplies. I want a horse that won’t get too excited and cause a fuss. No horse better than a simple native Japanese mare,” he insisted. “So how much?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The farmer scratched his head, caught off guard by Jinichi’s knowledge. “Alright, lemme letcha into the pasture,” he murmured, fishing out some keys. “It depends which one ya want. Some are older than the others.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro stayed behind at the gate along with the farmer as Jinichi ventured into the now open pasture. He went right into the throng of horses, who didn’t seem to mind his presence at all. He patted them all, looking them up and down in careful inspection. Shinjiro could see his mouth moving, but was too far away to hear anything he said. After a few minutes, he came forth with a horse in tow, who he guided forward simply with a hand placed to her neck. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I want this one, please.” Jinichi smiled.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The farmer regarded him, then the horse, with a dull gaze. “She’s one of the oldest of the bunch. You sure you want this one?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi nodded. “Certain.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The farmer seemed amused, but also a bit bitter. He chuckled. “Well, alright then. You want one of ‘em too?” he asked, looking to Shinjiro. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I-I, er,” Shinjiro stuttered, looking between the farmer and Jinichi, who were both clearly far more knowledgeable about horses than he. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where are your geldings?” Jinichi asked the farmer, stepping in. “I think they might be more his style.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>To Shinjiro, the so called ‘geldings’ looked the same as the ‘stallions’. As he had no idea what the difference was, he let Jinichi pick out the horse. He seemed to enjoy a certain black horse with a stripe of white running down the front of his snout, as well as a few freckles of white along his hind. From what Shinjiro could observe, the horse seemed to take well to Jinichi, too (but he couldn’t be sure). </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’ll get ‘em properly saddled up and fed for ya, so you can come pick ‘em up by noon tomorrow,” the farmer said, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he led the two out of the stables. “As for price, how about three-thousand for the pair?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Three thousand? No way, that mare’s well into her age, and the gelding’s got nothing more than a good pair of legs—” Jinichi began, but was halted by the sight of Shinjiro pulling out his wallet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s fine,” Shinjiro said, rifling through bills. “They’re good horses, right? No need to argue with him.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stunned as Shinjiro withdrew thousands of dollars from his wallet, Jinihci was silent until the transaction was over. The farmer tipped his hat, bowing and offering his toothy grin once again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...It’s called haggling,” Jinichi breathed, still stunned as they started to leave. Then, snapping out of it, he yanked on Shinjiro’s sleeve. “It’s called haggling, you idiot! I could’ve gotten us those horses for </span>
  <em>
    <span>half </span>
  </em>
  <span>that price!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro was surprised. “Why haggle? I’m sure he’s just trying to make a good living,” he replied, to Jinichi’s disdain. “It can’t be easy to be a farmer nowadays.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unsure of whether to regard his view as good-hearted or just plain rich people idiocracy, Jinichi sighed. “You ought to just let me do the buying from now on, city boy,” he mused. He flicked a curious gaze up to Shinjiro. “Do you really have the kind of funds to spend three-thousand bucks like that?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro looked out towards the road. “Thanks to my family, I suppose I do.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi wanted to ask more, but figured that he had grilled him enough about the haggling. He’d ask another time. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>On the way back to the inn, they grabbed a quick dinner of udon and tempura, and Shinjiro stopped in at a convenience store to pick up a bottle of sake and a roll of bandaging. Jinichi bought a packet of gummies for himself. Back at the inn, they put on their slippers and went into Shinjiro’s room, where he promptly opened the sake and picked up the phone to dial home. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello? It’s Shinjiro,” he said once the line had been picked up. He watched Jinichi sprawl out out on the tatami floor before him, digging around in his packet of gummies. He paused. “Are you…in the middle of something?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a dramatic pause on the other end of the line. “No, Shin, we’re not,” Xiulan said in disbelief at his thick skull. “If we were, do you think I woulda picked up?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro’s brows knitted together. “I suppose not.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right. Well, I guess everything went well today?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just full of things to say, aren’t you?” Xiulan laughed. “How’s Jinichi?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s good,” Shinjiro said, watching him find the single star-shaped gummy in his packet and wiggle with glee. “Jinichi, do you want to talk to your sister?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Boy, do I,” he said, rolling onto his side and taking the phone. He did nothing except puff his cheeks and make loud, horrifyingly accurate farting sounds with his mouth. Laughing, he handed the receiver back to Shinjiro and once again focused on his gummies. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ugh, you’re like a fucking five-year old! You’d better not be a pain in the ass for Shinjiro, you twat!” Shinjiro heard as he held the receiver back up to his ear. A string of other slurs followed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, he’s been fine,” Shinjiro replied meekly. “He was a great help in buying the horses. Actually, I doubt I could have done it on my own.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ah, Shinjiro,” Miyoko said, not realizing that the phone was back in his hands. Then, she laughed. “God. It sounds like you’re a daycare employee giving me a report on my toddler.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No no, it doesn’t feel that way at all…” Shinjiro said reassuringly, once again remembering the Miyoko’s concerns with her brother. “Don’t worry, Miyoko. Shall I call back in a few days?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, that sounds fine,” came the reply. “You two take care, then.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After hanging up, Jinichi stayed behind for just a short while to check up on Shinjiro’s wounds. He pulled out tweezers, the medicine he had made, cotton pads, and two containers of something from their supplies. They then went into the bathroom, where Jinichi washed his hands rigorously before reaching for one of Shinjiro’s hands. He carefully unraveled the soiled bandages, clucking his tongue disapprovingly as pus and unfinished scabs stuck to it and peeled off along with it. As expected, it was just as horrid of a sight as it had been earlier that morning. Jinichi lifted the hand, holding it up to the light, and gently twisted it this way and that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it feel any better?” he asked. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“A little.” Shinjiro replied. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Liar,” Jinichi muttered. Turning the faucet on, he put Shinjiro’s hand under the running water to wash off any sort of lingering surface debris. Then he brought it close to his face, and with the tweezers, removed dead, bloodied skin and globs of pus and congealed blood that were stuck to parts of healthy skin. Next he soaked a cotton pad with the contents from one of the bottles—alcohol. Its strong smell gave it away. When he pressed the soaked pad to Shinjiro’s hand, he felt it flinch. Even a guy like Shinjiro wasn’t immune to the sting of alcohol on a wound. Next, Jinichi applied the concoction he had brought along, and finally set his hand down on the edge of the sink to let the medicine soak in. He took the other hand and repeated the same process. Finally, he applied some clear cream from a tube, dabbing it carefully onto the exposed flesh. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“This is a real mess,” Jinichi said, putting the cream away. As he opened the new roll of bandages, he looked up at Shinjiro with a scrunched up, displeased face. “Really, what were you thinking, going and doing this to yourself?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro frowned. “I wasn’t thinking anything,” he murmured. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Clearly,” Jinichi scoffed. “This won’t heal for months, you know. You’d better not have another episode like that anytime soon, or you’ll break bones next. Plus, I’d be scared—that’s the most important thing. You’re already scary enough, without going berserk…” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Furrowed brows were added to Shinjiro’s frown. “I’m scary?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jinichi paused, staring quizzically at him. “Have you seen yourself? You’re seven feet tall and built like a tank. You’ve got a billion scars, oh, and gangster tattoos. Let’s see. You carry three bladed weapons on you at all times. Your smile looks like a scowl. Oh, and um—” Jinichi lifted his bloody hands, “—you’re batshit crazy. You can’t seriously tell me that you don’t think you’re scary.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“...It hadn’t occurred to me,” Shinjiro admitted, his eyes wandering to the floor. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well, I’m telling you now: you’re terrifying. Classic, textbook horrifying. Just like a supervillain.” Finished with bandaging his hands up, Jinichi patted them gingerly and offered a fabricated smile. “And if you so much as look at me wrong, I’d probably cry and, I dunno, combust into a cloud of stardust. Anyway. That’s the full process of how you should be cleaning your wounds. Once in the morning, once at night. And if you get the bandages wet, you have to change to fresh ones as soon as possible.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Thank you.” Shinjiro’s voice was quiet, and his face clouded over with deep thought. “I’m sorry. It isn’t my intention to...scare you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Jinichi said rather chipper, shrugging his shoulders. He pursed his lips smugly. “Not everyone is born as cute as me. Just ask Miyoko—she’s the ugly twin, haha!” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unsure of how to respond, Shinjiro simply gazed back at him. He was self-consciously trying to soften his expression, but he had no clue if it was working. “I won’t harm you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>This guy really </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>terrible at social reaction. Jinichi eyed him, and finally snorted with an awkward laugh. “Right, yeah, okay,” he said, lifting a brow. He patted Shinjiro’s arm as he made his way to the door. “I’ll see ya tomorrow, weirdo.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Shinjiro saw him out, then wandered to the table in the tatami room where he had set his sake down. He twisted the bottle open, but looked in the mirror before he took a drink. He smiled at his reflection. Oh, my. It did look rather like a scowl, didn’t it. He quickly turned away and put the bottle to his lips, taking a long sip. </span>
</p>
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